


Methuselah

by ladyofpride, theoneandonlyzoom



Series: The Poisoned Chalice [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry learns his lesson about altering the timeline, M/M, Mild Language, Mystery, Old Injuries, Suspicions, Time Travel, accidental romance, doppelgangers, mild violence, not-real-enemies to lovers, time remnants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofpride/pseuds/ladyofpride, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneandonlyzoom/pseuds/theoneandonlyzoom
Summary: In the hope of saving his mother's life--and ultimately failing in this endeavour--Barry becomes the man who's lived a thousand lives, having reset the timeline over and over again until he could return it to an almost-perfect state. Exhausted from his efforts and haunted by his mistakes, Barry tries to heal himself in solitude by frequenting the park along the river, the one he used to visit with his parents as a child...How was he to know that this was also Hunter Zolomon's favorite haunt?(Written prior to the start of season 3, in answer to a question posed by a friend who was wondering what kind of man the Earth-1 Hunter Zolomon was...)





	1. The man at the park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'll be honest---I miss Teddy Sears, so the fact that Hunter Zolomon's doppelganger is alive and well somewhere on Earth One gives me hope that we'll see him again some day _*crosses fingers*_. But just in case we don't, here---have a (slightly angsty at the start) backward romance staring Barry Allen and my favorite blonde fellow on the show.
> 
> Special thanks to our good friend fastxandxtardy on tumblr who initially suggested this story to me. It turned out to be much longer than anticipated, my dear. I hope you don't mind.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s lived this life.

Intuitively, he knows he never should’ve gone back to save his mother after his battle with Zoom, but he was still young and naïve and not well versed in the rules of the Speed Force then. This time around, he doesn’t disappear off into the night. Instead, he keeps both feet planted firmly on the ground after their little celebratory dinner and walks down the street to clear his head, heart still aching from the loss of his father, though satisfied in knowing that his soul is still somewhere out there, wandering the stars with his mother, free to love their son from afar…

But his demons still hound him as he wanders through the night. They creep in the shadows around him, breathing heavily down his neck.

He will always be haunted by all the little mistakes he can never afford to make again.

~***~

The only one who suspects anything is off about him is Cisco.

He’s Vibe, so of course he’s aware that the timeline has shifted in his periphery, bending all around him, creating ripples in the air. He doesn’t know the finer details, but he’s aware that Barry has been suffering on his own for what amounts to almost a century in stolen time, having run into the past countless time to undo the various calamities he’s unleashed upon their Earth.  So while no one else can figure out why Barry is suddenly so withdrawn, Cisco gives him a knowing look, takes him aside for a chat, and tells him to go for a walk. Relax. _This time_ everything will be alright…

Experience has taught Barry that that will never be true, but he leaves the Cortex anyway. Doesn’t quite know where to go, but his feet inevitably carry him to the nearest park.

Fall is almost upon them, and so the leaves are only now beginning to change colour. There’s a small group of children playing soccer in a nearby field. Off to his left, two elderly women are playing chess on one of the wooden benches.

Barry closes his eyes and meditates.

He hears the children laughing through the fog and for a precious moment in time he finds peace.

~***~

The park becomes his sanctuary.

He’ll even drop by there in the dead of night after he’s hung up his suit and cowl. His favorite time to go is in the early morning though, when the sun is just beginning to rise over the bay, Keystone City a burning red jewel on the horizon. There is usually a jogger or two already running down the winding path, cheeks rosy from the cold, fleece jackets zipped up to their chins. Occasionally, an older gentleman with a cane will wander by just after daybreak, waving amiably to Barry as he passes.

Today, Hunter Zolomon takes a seat on one of the old wooden benches next to the one Barry had silently declared his own and pulls out a worn book.

Barry’s breath catches in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t know what to do at first, because he thought the chapter of his life that Hunter narrated was well and truly over when the wraiths carted the other man off to hell, but as Barry watches him thumb idly through his little blue book he begins to realize that this is not, in fact, the man who murdered his father. This is Zoom’s double, his parallel self on Earth One. So far as anyone is concerned, he’s as innocent of Zoom’s crimes as Harry is of Eobard’s.

But Barry’s skin still crawls at the sight of him and he’s tortured by the thought that this man might just be another monster in the making. He knows that doesn’t need to be the truth, that this man’s destiny is _not_ tied intrinsically to his doppelganger’s, but Barry wastes almost half an hour sitting there in something of a cold sweat as he watches Hunter read his book, glued to his seat by a mixture of fear and loathing until he glances at his phone and realizes he needs to get ready for work.

When he finally rises from his seat, he debates finding a new park to frequent for his mental health. He should just move along. Forget this little encounter ever happened. Thinking about it will only drive him mad.

Somehow though, tomorrow morning finds him sitting on his usual bench, watching the sun rise over the bay, as he had before, joggers and children and elderly folk slowly appearing one by one…

And Hunter Zolomon doesn’t show.

~***~

But his absence is only a brief reprieve.

The following day, he appears again.

It’s Wednesday and Barry spent the whole night racing through a backlog of paperwork of a recently fired fellow CSI at his precinct, so he’s a little bleary eyed when he takes his usual seat. He sips at his coffee and waves to the elderly gentleman that wanders past, cane rapping rhythmically against the pavement in a way that is almost hypnotizing. It sends him drifting into a quiet corner of his mind, where he thinks of nothing and feels nothing and is responsible for absolutely nothing for a few fleeting moments at the start of his day, and so he doesn’t realize Hunter Zolomon has taken up the bench next to his until he opens his eyes and glances idly in his direction.

The sound of surprise he makes is…rather unappealing.

He startles a small girl pulling up grass on the other side of the path from him, and her mother, and the little dog rolling around beside them. It also attracts Hunter’s attention, although he doesn’t jump like the others. He merely adjust his glasses and looks up from his book, eyes trailing after Barry as he hotfoots it out of there without the use of his speed, even though the hairs on the back of his neck are standing straight up and he feels like he can’t breathe.

Once he’s out of sight, he zips over to S.T.A.R. Labs and collapses into the empty seat beside Cisco. The other boy currently has his feet kicked up on the main console, Vibe goggles settled over his eyes as he speaks aloud to seemingly no one. It takes Barry a moment, but eventually he realizes his friend is fielding an interdimensional call from Harry.

Once Cisco is done, he pushes his goggles up and inclines his head to smile at Barry. Almost immediately though, he drops the smile. “Dude…you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I haven’t,” Barry assures him, although his voice sounds tight. Like he’s lying.

Thankfully, Cisco doesn’t push the matter. He simply gives Barry a sad look and then switches all screens on the main console to show the early morning news.

Barry slumps further into his seat and watches the news with his friend in silence.

He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s afraid of the proverbial boogeyman.

~***~

And he _is_ afraid, but he never let a little thing like fear stop him before, so why should he let it now?

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he returns to the park the following morning, eyes peeled for Hunter. The man doesn’t show on Thursday, but he reappears on Friday, same hour, same spot, although he cracks open a different book, this one with a new cover. His fingers obscure the title, but the ominous depiction of a house atop a dark hill has Barry thinking it’s either a mystery piece or a horror.

Saturday and Sunday are both no-shows for Hunter—at least until Barry decides to visit later in the day the following few weeks. He’ll dart down the winding path between thwarting robberies and high-speed car chases to look for the man, and that’s when he realizes Hunter likes to frequent the place in the early evenings on Sundays too. He’ll also come later in the day on Tuesdays and Thursdays, closer to 4 or 5pm, although this isn’t always the case. Only his Monday/Wednesday/Friday break-of-dawn visitations are the rule of thumb.

Barry collects this data over the course of three weeks. He doesn’t allow this strange new obsession to go much farther than that. He’s not ready yet to see where Hunter goes beyond the park, but he feels as though what he’s doing now is…somewhat good. After all, he is only doing this to look for signs of the old Hunter creeping into this one. It’s his job, really, to make sure no one suffers at the hands of Zolomon ever again…

Barry feels completely justified in what he’s doing.

Until one sunny Monday morning, when Hunter sits down at the opposite end of Barry’s bench.

On the inside Barry is freaking out, because this is _not_ the norm, even if Hunter has a habit of jumping benches. He’s never settled down on one that was already occupied, a common enough courtesy in the park when you consider that the benches are only long enough to seat three people at a time. Hunter’s break from the status quo is also a little disconcerting given that the other benches are completely empty.

Barry can’t help but feel as though he’s been singled out, even when Hunter cracks open yet another new book and seemingly ignores Barry as he skims the pages.

Ten minutes into this awkward interaction though—and just as Barry was contemplating leaving—Hunter clears his throat a little and, not looking up from his book, asks, “Are you new to Central City?”

Barry glances around himself to ensure that Hunter has, in fact, directed that question at him. Then he straightens in his seat and says, “Uh…no. Born and raised actually. Why do you ask?”

Hunter finally peels his eyes away from his book, thumb tucked between two pages to hold his spot as he turns his gaze on Barry. “I began my routine of reading here in the morning almost two years ago. You only started showing up in the last month or so. I was just wondering.”

“I’ve been coming to this park for a lot longer than a month,” Barry clarifies. “Two, in fact. You were just missing until the 17th.”

Hunter blinks at him, clearly stunned by the accuracy of his statement. After the shock has passed, he says, “You have a good memory, Mr…?”

“Allen,” he replies, fully on automatic. He tries not to wince when he realizes he’s given this man more information than he ever intended, but since he’s already screwed himself over in that department, he shifts uneasily in his seat and adds, “Barry Allen, I mean. I…I’m a CSI. It’s my job to be observant.”

Hunter nods, features relaxing as he slowly accepts that as truth. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I’m not prying, I’m just…I’m Hunter, by the way. Hunter Zolomon.”

Hearing that name, said in that voice, with a man with _that_ face, does something funny to Barry’s brain. Everything seems faded all of a sudden, as though a thin white veil has fallen over his eyes. And he’s lightheaded. And dizzy. And…

Hunter offers Barry his hand.

Impulsively, Barry takes it, wondering vaguely if he’s going to pass out.

He doesn’t.

In fact, having that man’s much larger hand envelop his own, firm but gentle in his grip, actually helps to ground him before he can launch himself into a full blown panic attack. Slowly then the world comes back into focus. Barry very nearly sighs in relief.

“Are you okay?” Hunter asks as his hand slips from Barry’s. “You look a little pale.”

“I’ve been battling the flu for the last couple of days,” Barry lies. “I should probably head home.”

“Oh,” Hunter says; Barry wonders if the hint of disappointment he hears in the other man’s voice is just a figment of his imagination. “Well, get yourself some rest. And don’t be a stranger.”

Barry smiles, murmuring a soft goodbye before he staggers to his feet and wanders off in the direction of S.T.A.R. Labs.

He avoids the park for the next three days and tells himself that his absence will only help support his story.

Deep down inside, he knows that isn’t true.

~***~

Friday morning finds Barry at his usual bench.

He brings a newspaper with him, to avoid being drawn into another tense encounter, a plan which fails miserably when Hunter shows up at his usual time, slowing as he approaches the long stretch of benches, as though he isn’t sure where to sit.

Barry hates having to deal with awkward situations, which is why he impulsively looks up from his paper and says, “Hi”, that age old gesture for _‘come join me’_.

The corner of Hunter’s mouth crooks into a familiar smile as he straightens his glasses and takes up the seat next to Barry. “Feeling better?” he asks, as he begins flipping through the pages of his book to find his place.

“Much,” Barry replies, skimming the Sports section.

“Is that the CC Gazette?”

“Yes.”

Left leg crossed casually over the other, Hunter begins bouncing his raised foot as he eyes the paper in Barry’s hands. He looks…indecisive.

For the life of him, Barry can’t remember what today’s front page article is about. Was someone murdered? Is he missing some kind of important event today…?

He begins flipping through the pages to find the headline.

 “Can I see the comics?”

 Barry pauses. “I’m sorry—what?”

“The comics.” Hunter shrugs, like he’s trying to make no big deal of it, but he keeps eyeing the paper. “Unless you’re reading them.”

 _‘You’re such a dork,’_ Barry thinks to himself, but he does so affectionately and with no small amount of disbelief, because that’s not something he would’ve expected to hear _any_ Hunter say—not the melodramatic sociopath from Earth-2 or the straight-laced man with the trim, high-collared black wool coat and reading glasses seated now beside him.

What Barry says is: “Of course.”

Hunter smiles at him and takes the proffered comics. Said smile is open and contagious, kind of like the one the old Hunter used to flash at Caitlin whenever he was ribbing her.

Barry shifts uneasily in his seat and goes back to reading the Sports section.

They sit in amiable silence for the remainder of their time together, except when Hunter hands back the comics and asks, “You come here every morning? I mean, more than just Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays?”

“Yeah. Pretty much every morning.”

Hunter nods and then cracks open his book.

Barry steals a glance at the man, waiting for him to elaborate on his question.

He never does.

~***~

The following morning, Barry arrives to find Hunter already in his spot.

Not just on his bench either—but his precise spot _on_ the bench. Barry hasn’t changed it at all since he started coming here and so he can’t help but feel slighted to see Hunter there. And Hunter _knows_ this, because he’s grinning like the cat that’s got the canary.

“What’s this?” Barry asks.

“Coffee.”

Barry blinks in confusion.

Straightening his coat collar, Hunter rises to his feet. Barry tries not to bristle at the fact that the man is ever so slightly taller than him. “Come and have a cup of coffee with me.”

“What, _now_?”

“Yes, now.” Hunter nods down the winding path. “I know a place. Just say yes.”

Barry can’t think of any excuse _not to_ , so he nods and trails off after Hunter, eventually pulling up directly beside him as the man leads the way to a little café that’s situated on the very edge of the park, near the entrance gates that open up to Main Street and the public court situated in front of City Hall. It’s also only just opened, so the wait isn’t too long for Hunter as he steps in line to grab them their drinks.

The settle down at a table beside the front window which provides Barry with the perfect view of two small children trying to perform cartwheels in front of their father on the sidewalk.

Hunter follows his gaze out the window.

Barry decides to take control of their conversation by asking the first question: “Why the weird schedule?”

Hunter’s face scrunches up a little in confusion. Then he figures it out. “Oh—I teach in the morning. Ten o’clock, on the dot.”

It’s Barry’s turn to feel like a moron, but he solves the puzzle readily enough himself. “I see…Just every odd weekday then? Where do you teach?”

“At the university. I’m an instructor for the ‘ _Chemical Engineering Thermodynamics’_ course, which is, as you’ve said, scheduled every odd weekday. I also run a discussion session for advanced topics in chemical engineering every Tuesday and Thursday evening. I like to relax at the park beforehand because it’s literally the halfway point between my apartment and the university.”

Taking a sip of his coffee, Barry relaxes back into his chair. “It’s a little out of the way of where I live and work, but I love the view.”

“Nice, isn’t it?” Hunter’s smile is warm and inviting. If Barry hadn’t known the man’s doppelganger as well as he did, he would’ve allowed himself to be charmed by it…which is something of a lie, because he is, at least a little. “Quiet too. I find it’s never too crowded.”

Barry nods in agreement. 

Their small-talk continues in much the same vein. He discovers that Hunter used to work at a lab in Keystone before he was offered a teaching position across the river at Central City University with the promise of pulling together his own lab there once the new Interdisciplinary Science Building was fully constructed. There’s no guarantee that it’ll be completed by Christmas though, as he was initially promised, but he doesn’t mind teaching and he hopes to continue, even after he gets his lab.

Barry discovers other little tidbits of information about the man as well, such as the motorcycle he owns but hasn’t ridden since his last big wipe-out, which resulted in a broken leg and a fractured pelvis. He’ll hop back onto the proverbial horse someday, but in the meantime, he finds he gets a better work out from walking. It’s good for the lungs, he jokes, which then leads to a short discussion of how Hunter used to smoke in his teenaged years, although Barry can’t blame him for his vices, because, well, he _did_ try to smoke a cigarette in high school, but only just the once…

“So there _is_ a bit of a rebel lurking under all those freshly ironed shirts,” Hunter muses.

“My shirts are _not_ —” he begins to say, just as he glances down and notices the neat creases on his shirt sleeves. Iris or Joe must have ironed it the last time he did laundry at the West residence. “You know, contrary to popular belief, the clothes do _not_ always ‘ _maketh the man_ ’.”

“Convince me,” Hunter replies, eyes almost twinkling under the bright fluorescent lights of the little café. “I think I’ve given you a decent introduction to the Early Life of Hunter Zolomon. Now, tell me more about _you_.”

For some reason, Barry does.

But not too much. He tells him about his job and how he works with his foster father; tells him a little bit about his mother and father; tells him that he likes to ‘run’ in his free time…

“Uh huh,” Hunter hums, eyes still twinkling. “Such a rebel.”

“Shut up.”

“As you wish.” Glancing down at his wristwatch, Hunter straightens his collar again and rises from his seat. “I should get going. Same time tomorrow, Barry?”

Barry nods and smiles and rises from his own seat. They part ways then, Hunter to the university and Barry to the precinct.

He doesn’t quite realize what their little coffee means until he runs off to S.T.A.R. Labs later that night.

~***~

The Cortex is empty when he drops by.

Correction: the Cortex _is_ almost empty. Cisco is lurking in one of the side offices and he creeps up on Barry in the dim light as he’s inspecting his suit. He doesn’t realize his friend is standing behind him until Cisco says, “When were you going to tell me you’re dating Hunter Zolomon?”

Barry nearly has a heart attack. He’s too annoyed to let it show though, frowning at Cisco as the boy takes a step back and wanders off to seat himself in front of the main consoles. “Who says I’m dating his doppelganger?”

“The cameras don’t lie, dude.” Cisco hits a button and the various television screens hooked up around the Cortex change to display the CCTV recordings Cisco has been collecting for god-knows how many days. Most of them show Barry at the park, sitting on his usual bench, either chatting or staring at Hunter. The one nearest Barry shows the two of them ducking into the coffee shop earlier this morning. “Felicity hooked me up to the city’s CCTV feed, remember?”

“Are you _stalking_ me?” Barry snaps.

“…A little.” At least the boy has the sense to look guilty. “You don’t talk to anyone anymore, Barry. I know I told you to run off and find yourself a safe haven, but I just wanted to check up on you at least once. Make sure you weren’t severely depressed or something, okay?”

“This looks like a little more than just _once_ ,” Barry mutters, gesturing to the screens.

Cisco frowns. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting _Zoom_ to show up. I didn’t know if it was just his Earth One doppelganger or another time remnant. You’re always watching him like a hawk yourself, so what was I supposed to think?”

Barry takes a deep breath. Then he lets it out, slowly, counting back from ten. Cisco’s right. Given the ordeal they’ve all been through, his friend has every right to be suspicious.

“Why didn’t you talk to me earlier?” Barry finally asks.

“I don’t know…I was waiting for you to say something first. I didn’t expect you to start _dating_ the guy.”

“Grabbing a coffee with a friend is _not_ a date.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure your new ‘friend’ thought he was asking you out on one.”

Barry laughs. “Dude, _trust me_ …”

Cisco grins, the same way he always does when he _knows_ he’s right, and that gives Barry reason to pause. “No man, trust _me_. I’m ashamed to say I’ve spent an ungodly amount of time pouring over these recordings, and since you pretty much just sit on a park bench all day _,_ openly _staring_ at the guy, and _he_ —” Cisco hits a button on his keyboard and up pops a close-up of Hunter glancing at Barry out of the corner of his eye, gaze partially obscured by his glasses, as he pretends to read his book. “—is obviously _aware_ that you spend all your time staring at him, this makes me think this was a date. He probably thinks you have a major crush on him.”

Barry stares at the image for a moment, mouth hanging partially open in disbelief. He realizes that this particular shot was from yesterday. “So? Just because he glanced at me once, doesn’t mean anything…”

Cisco suddenly fast forwards through the footage. Hunter doesn’t glance at Barry at all again, but Cisco still looks pretty smug before he says, “Twenty minutes, Barry. The guy stared at the same page for _twenty minutes_ …I bet he was thinking about how he was going to ask you out.”

Barry runs a hand through his hair.

God.

He’s…

“ _Shit_.”

~***~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you noticed any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know. Otherwise, I hope you're enjoying the story so far! You can expect chapter two sometime soon...


	2. The Rogues Gallery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks, but we appreciate your patience and perseverance. This story is small but we love it with all our hearts. We're glad to hear you love it too.

Hunter _could_ be another time remnant.

At least, that’s Barry’s argument for joining the man for coffee again. Cisco rolls his eyes at him, but the fact remains that Hunter was notorious for multiplying himself behind their backs. Barry doesn’t want to run the risk of letting Zoom or any of his scions slip past their defenses again, so Cisco finally relents and promises not to tell anyone that Barry intends to continue spying on their assumed enemy—although he refuses to stop monitoring the CCTV cameras.

“It’s a little creepy,” Barry mutters, side-eyeing the wall of monitors running through all the ‘sessions’ Cisco’s already recorded of him and Hunter on loop. It reminds him too much of the extensive footage Gideon collected on him during Eobard’s reign at S.T.A.R. Labs.

Cisco tilts his head to one side and blinks, nice and slow, as though the level of Barry’s stupidity in this matter is truly incomprehensible. “First of all, I can’t hear anything, so whatever you say to Hunter during your little visit is for your ears only. Second, Hunter played house with us for _months_ as an All-American dreamboat. He _even_ took the time to seduce Caitlin, so this seemingly innocent romance he’s decided to strike up with you is right up his alley, my friend. Just, please…don’t assume you can do this alone.”

Barry can’t necessarily disagree with him there, so he shrugs in acquiescence and finally runs home for the evening. Admittedly, their little talk keeps him up at night thinking about how all of this could be an elaborate ruse, although that doesn’t stop Barry from throwing on another ‘freshly ironed’ shirt the following morning before beginning his little investigation in earnest.

If it turns out he’s wrong about this, well…at least he’s getting some free coffee out of the whole ordeal.

He arrives at his beloved bench literally seconds before Hunter, not bothering to sit down when he notices the other man approaching. Hunter looks pleased to see him there, grin widening into a warm smile as gestures back down the winding path and says, “Shall we?”

Steeling himself, Barry nods and follows after him.

They return to little café on the edge of the park, collect their drinks from the bleary-eyed barista, and settle into the same small table by the front window. Barry waits a moment for both of them to ease into their seats before he clears his throat and then quietly asks, “Is this a date?”

The corner of Hunter’s mouth crooks into a nervous sort of smile. Then he takes off his glasses and sets them down on the table between them before rubbing the bridge of his nose.

For a moment, Barry wonders if he and Cisco were wrong about Hunter, heart thudding in his chest as he waits for the other man to set him straight. Remarkably however, Hunter instead lowers his hand again and says, “Yes.”

Barry shoulders slump in relief.

Hunter interprets the subtle shift in his posture differently though. “Unless, of course, you’d rather it wasn’t?” He asks, smile slowly fading.

Barry shakes his head. “No—of course not! I was just checking.”

Hunter blows out a small puff of air, the tension in his face and shoulders gradually melting away. “God, I’m so glad that’s out in the open now…This is always the hardest part, isn’t it?”

“I can imagine.”

Hunter gives him a curious look. “Only ‘imagine’?”

Barry takes a sip of his drink, hoping he isn’t blushing. “I, uh...I’ve never actually dated another man before. I kissed a guy in my second year of college once, but somehow I don’t think that counts.”

“Why?” Hunter asked, eyes alight. “Was alcohol involved?”

“…Maybe.”

“Well, I think every little bit of experience helps,” Hunter replies, taking a sip of coffee. “I didn’t realize I had an equal interest in men and women until _long_ after I graduated college. Nothing’s ever set in stone anyway, you know?”

Barry nods. As Hunter said himself, he’s glad that’s all out in the open now. In fact, it prompts him to clear his throat as he decides to broach yet another sensitive subject of conversation. “Fair warning, I haven’t dated anyone in a long time. Please don’t feel discouraged if I seem…”

“Awkward?” Hunter supplies. “I promise, I won’t. To be honest, I haven’t dated anyone in a few years, so I might be a bit rusty myself.”

Barry eases back into his chair. “I’m sure I have you beat.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I was in a coma for nine months,” he admits, finally dropping the first clue. He watches Hunter’s face for any kind of reaction, stomach slowly knotting when Hunter immediately doesn’t look half as surprised as most people usually do.

“I know,” Hunter says eventually. “That’s truly awful.”

Barry freezes.

Wincing, Hunter suddenly seems to register the inelegance of his own response. “I mean—I _know_ because I googled you after we introduced ourselves.”

Barry…doesn’t see how that helps.

Instead of tensing further though, Hunter laughs. “I’m sorry, Barry, but even though you told me you worked for the police, you have an awfully young face. I just wanted to be sure…”

Barry finally relaxes. God… _now_ he understands where Hunter is going with this. “Has this happened to you before?”

“Hm?”

“Have you almost dated someone who was…too ‘young’?”

“I’ve had students from the university follow me to the park. So yeah, you had me worried me for a while there. Believe me, it’s every profs worst nightmare.”

“I don’t blame you. Some of the guys at work call me ‘baby-face’.”

“That must be annoying.”

Barry shrugs. Surprisingly, it isn’t. “I know they’re only joking.”

Hunter sips at his coffee again. Then he sighs, relaxing further into his chair. “So…would you ever be interested in going out to dinner with me? Not that I mind coffee dates, but it would be nice to chat with you for more than an hour at a time.”

“I’d like that,” Barry replies. “Just don’t be insulted if I have to duck out on you suddenly. I get called into work at odd hours.”

“No, I understand,” Hunter replies, grinning. His cheeks are still a little rosy from the cold. With his dazzling smile and his hands wrapped comfortably around his steaming cup of coffee, he looks like the male model of every Christmas commercial Barry has ever seen. “Crime doesn’t exactly have a set schedule, does it?”

Barry quirks his eyebrow in amusement. “Oh, you have no idea…”

~***~

“Learn anything of interest?” Cisco inquires when Barry drops by S.T.A.R. Labs that afternoon, but there’s a cheeky little edge to his voice like he already knows the answer to that question. “Because it looked to me like you did 90% of all the talking today…”

Barry can feel his face heating up, but he clears his throat and reminds himself that he needs to be objective here. “This operation of ours is going to take a while, Cisco. I’ve got to give a little in order to get a little in return, you know?”

Cisco shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, man.”

“And besides,” Barry mumbles, making a beeline for his suit, “he’s taking me out for dinner tomorrow.”

“ _What_?!” Cisco gasps, turning sharply toward his friend. But he isn’t able to get another word in before Barry is suited up and out the door, submerging himself seamlessly into the familiar warmth of the Speed Force.

Barry’s a grown man. He can go on this date if he wants to.

And there’s nothing Cisco can say to stop him.

~***~

But he tries.

He nags Barry about it the following day, barely able to keep his voice down whenever Caitlin or Joe wander into Cortex. Barry shoots him a number of warning glances, half terrified that his friend will unintentionally out him so early in the game, but somehow Cisco is able to keep his head together long enough that everyone else has left for home before he literally explodes on Barry.

“In case you’ve never noticed, most restaurants don’t have security cameras,” he rants loudly from one of the Cortex’s side offices. He’s currently hunched over an old desk, rummaging frantically through the drawers.

Barry resists the urge to roll his eyes as he crosses his arms and leans back against the main console. “Look, you can keep track of where I am in the city through our GPS system, Cisco. You don’t _need_ to watch me stuff my face with food.”

“You’re a moron,” is Cisco’s sharp retort. Then he finally finds whatever it was he was searching for before darting back into the Cortex and making a grab for Barry’s shirt collar. Obviously, Barry recoils in shock. “Hold still—this isn’t a camera.”

Barry still bats his hands away. “Then what is it?”

“A mic.”

“What— _no_.”

Cisco gives him an incredulous look. “Dude, what if he threatens you? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Cisco…” Barry’s about to go on a long rant of his own about personal boundaries and why they should be respected, but then he finally registers the hint of fear in Cisco’s voice and the blatant desperation in his eyes, and so he drops his arms. “…Fine, but I’m not wearing a mic every time we go out on a date.”

Cisco’s crooks an eyebrow, as though he’s skeptical Barry and Hunter will ever have more than one date, but he silently accepts this small victory for what it is and tapes the microphone underneath Barry’s shirt collar before shooing him off for the night.

Throwing his jacket on, Barry disappears in his customary burst of light, slowing only when he’s about a block away from the restaurant, which is small spaghetti house situated just across the street from the museum. And the place is packed, probably because the museum recently booted their closing hour from 5pm to 9pm due to the popularity of its newest exhibition: _The Rogues Gallery_.

Barry tries not to smirk at the irony as he ducks into the crowded restaurant. Thankfully, Hunter had the forethought to reserve a table, and so Barry is quickly ushered to the far back of the establishment by a young waiter where Hunter is already comfortably stuffed into a two-seater booth.

Barry slides into the seat across from him and glances at the menu. “All-You-Can-Eat pasta?”

“Great, isn’t it?” Hunter smiles. “I apologize in advance, but I’m starving right now. I hope you don’t get turned off by the sight of someone scarfing down pasta.”

“Oh, by all means…” Barry offers humorously, trying not to gloat later when he manages to inhale three bowls of fettuccini alfredo in the time it takes Hunter to polish off two. He does smile like a fool though when Hunter applauds him for his incredible feat, citing the fact that he skipped lunch (which he didn’t) as the reason for his own ungodly appetite.

“You’ve just put me to shame, Barry Allen,” Hunter sighs as he nosily sips up the last of his coke. “I have never been outpaced in all my life.”

Barry laughs nervously into his own drink, wondering what Cisco is going to say about that particular line the next time he swings by the Cortex.

“Anyway,” Hunter sighs, “I don’t think either of us talked much tonight. At least, I didn’t. I was too busy eating.”

Barry nods, because that’s certainly true. The pasta was just that good.

“It’s only 6 o’clock,” Hunter continues, glancing down at his watch. “If you’re up for it, we could go for a walk?”

“Or…” Barry glances over his shoulder at the museum through the restaurant’s front bay windows. “How about we check that out? I haven’t been in years. I heard the Napoleon exhibit is pretty good.”

Hunter smiles amiably. “Lead the way.”

~***~

They do end up going to the Napoleon exhibit. And then the _Lost Treasures_ exhibit. And then this small demonstration about bugs from across the globe, chatting idly about life in general as they wander through the displays. Barry learns other little factoids about Hunter, although nothing that sets off any alarm bells inside his head. Besides the fact that Hunter got his PhD in Gotham and was once robbed by gunpoint in the subway there, the stories he tells Barry tonight are uneventful. Sweet—like the fact that he volunteers at the hospital once a month—but uneventful.

Even so, Barry feels oddly satisfied by tonight’s date. He doesn’t _want_ this Hunter to be anything like his doppelganger, and so wandering aimlessly through the museum, just quietly enjoying the company of the other man, is a nice reprieve from his usual hectic life. In fact, he’s surprised he hasn’t been called in for some kind of emergency yet. Usually, he has to call it quits on his dates before they’ve barely begun.

And so, for this reason alone, that Barry decides to see how far he can stretch his luck by leading Hunter at long last to _The Rogue’s Gallery_. He already knows everything there is _to know_ about the many metahumans in Central City, but his curiosity is piqued and he does have to wonder if anything’s changed about them since the last time he was forced to alter the timeline.

The first room of the exhibit contains, not surprisingly, three mannequins decked out to look like the Snart siblings and Mick Rory. Like most of the items in here, nothing much is authentic, but hundreds of people in Central City had made it their hobby to track down matching suits and weapons to those seen totted by the Flash’s enemies. Leonard Snart’s mannequin, for example, has the same brand of parka, goggles, and boots, a stunning replica of his cold gun strapped to his plastic hand. In fact, Barry leans forward to make sure it isn’t the real thing when he sees it, although the little plaque at the base of mannequin cites the fact that this replica, like many of the others in the museum, was only successfully crafted after hours spent pouring over the various security feeds shared by the various stores, banks, and casinos the Rogues looted in the past. In fact, the only truly authentic items in the exhibit are the deactivated husks of the Trickster’s toy traps, an exhaustive collection that takes up a room all its own at the far back.

Not everything could be faithfully replicated though. For example, the gloves that the ‘Pied Piper’ wore don’t look quite right, as stated on his mannequin’s plaque. Likewise, his identity is still penned down as ‘Unknown’, which Barry is grateful to see, as well as his status as a ‘Rogue’. Rumor has it that the young man is either dead or no longer cares to torment the public, the latter of which Barry already knows to be the truth.

 _‘The man in the yellow suit’_ is yet another mystery of the exhibit, thanks to the fact that Eobard was careful to always cover his tracks. He has no mannequin. Instead, a glass panel had been set up in one corner of the main room, red and yellow lights flickering ominously against it from a series of small cameras mounted on the base of the display’s pedestal, giving the vague impression of a shadowy figure vibrating quietly on the spot.

Barry glances briefly at the hazy imitation of his old mentor and then, with a shudder, continues on.

Eventually, he and Hunter wander down a narrow hallway into a small, dark room. Barry has no idea what he expects to find in here, since he’s already seen the displays of what he considers to be the worst of all his enemies, but then his eyes latch onto the black suit and jagged smile and he freezes on the spot.

Zoom’s mannequin is set up in such a way that his right hand is raised, clawed fingers extending upward, head tilted curiously to one side as though he’s delivering an ultimatum. Blue light flickers behind him on a black screen, reminiscent of the streaks of lightning left in his wake as he darted through the city streets. Barry can’t help but marvel at how realistic the suit is, although eventually he realizes Zoom never shied away from the camera when he was terrorizing Earth 1. In fact, Barry remembers all too clearly the day he killed almost everyone in CC Jitters before hefting up a camera to deliver his final speech to the public…

Behind him, Barry senses movement.

He turns his head sharply around but sees no one. There’s a flutter of the dark curtain hanging beside the exit now, but the AC just kicked in, a cool breeze drifting down into the room from an unseen vent somewhere up above…

And then someone touches his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Hunter asks, drawing his hand back when Barry jumps. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Barry replies, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s then that he realizes his hands are shaking. His skin is covered in a cold sweat.

“You don’t look fine,” Hunter says, frowning in concern.

“It’s just…” Barry gestures vaguely to the mannequin. “He killed a lot of people at my precinct. I never thought I would see him again.”

“That’s horrible,” Hunter replies, glancing down at the mannequin’s plaque. “Well, at least it says here he’s presumed dead. They never found a body, but the CCPD is on record as saying that the Flash confirmed his ‘untimely demise’…Is that true?”

Actually, Joe just waltzed into Singh’s office one day and told him that Zoom was pretty much gone for good. Singh had apparently given him a long, hard look, and then nodded in understanding, because the CCPD had the kind of relationship with Barry that Oliver probably wished he had with the police in his own city, one best characterised by mutual understanding and respect.

“For the most part,” Barry replies. “The Flash is pretty good at keeping the police in the loop. I think the popular theory is that he was carted off to hell.”

Hunter laughs.

Barry laughs too, although his is a little weaker.

Giving Barry’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, Hunter leads him out of the room and on to the next display. It’s the last room in the exhibit and the entrance is crowded, but somehow they manage to press their way through the throng of people slowly filing their way out to see what is apparently the highlight of the show.

When Barry finally catches sight of it, he feels like he should’ve guessed the display was going to be all about him.

Sure enough, Barry’s suit had also been loving replicated. Even the emblem on his chest was updated to the current golden bolt set against a white background. And like ‘ _the man in the yellow suit_ ’ display, red and yellow lights flicker at the base of his platform, although it gives his mannequin a warmer glow than Eobard’s fluid form, the atmosphere in the small room undoubtedly brightened by the red banner hanging in the background, which Barry recalls seeing once before during the _Flash Day_ parade.

Stepping a little closer to the mannequin, Barry is finally able to make out the idol’s plaque. Written in big, bold letters are five simple words:

 _The Savior of Central City_.

Despite his best efforts not to, Barry smiles.

“Isn’t he just the greatest?” a young woman standing before the mannequin says. “I wish I could meet him in person.”

The young man beside her—presumably her boyfriend—shrugs. “He’s shorter than I expected.”

Confidence momentarily trampled underfoot, Barry’s smile slowly fades.

Hunter gives the young man a weird look and then turns to Barry. “You’ve probably seen him at the precinct. What do you think?”

“Uh,” Barry says, because suddenly all eyes are on him. “I’ve only met him once before, actually. He was…nice.”

The young man snorts.

The young woman elbows her date sharply in the ribs—so hard, in fact, that it knocks the wind out of the kid. “He saved my sister’s life last year. Show some respect.”

The young man rubs his chest tenderly, evidently cowed by her sharp response. “Oh, yeah. That’s great, Chantel.”

She gives him a blank stare and then suddenly storms out of the room.

“I meant Cheyenne!” the young man shouts, running after her.

Hunter and Barry are able to hold it together for all of five seconds before they burst out laughing.

“Either he’s in for a rough night or he’s never getting another date out of that girl,” Hunter muses when he’s finally about to breathe again. “Whatever the case may be, I don’t pity him. This guy—” He jabs his thumb at Barry’s mannequin. “—has done a hell of a lot for this city. I wish I could meet him someday too.”

“I don’t think he’s very sociable,” Barry mumbles.

“Oh?” Hunter inquires. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m not saying he’s anti-social or anything,” Barry quickly clarifies. “He doesn’t talk much. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. He’s just…”

“A little sad, perhaps?”

Barry blinks at him.

“My family has a long military history.” Hunter shrugs. “Having to go to war every day? That can’t be easy for a kid.”

Barry feels an odd blossom of warmth in his chest at Hunter’s understanding. “ _Kid_ , huh?”

Hunter smiles. “Well yeah. I mean, how old can he be?”

Barry shrugs. “From what I’ve been told, he’s my age.”

Hunter opens his mouth to say something—and then immediately snaps it shut again, suddenly realizing the little hole he’s digging for himself by indirectly calling his date a ‘kid’. “Okay. Well…I’m in the mood for some ice cream now. How about you?”

“I would love some ice cream,” Barry replies, allowing the man his retreat, and together they wander back through the exhibit toward the exit.

Barry has that odd sense of something hovering just outside his periphery though as they make their way back to the main entrance—and so he turns his head, only to catch another glimpse of Eobard’s shadowy form hovering silently above his pedestal.

Unbidden, the man’s last words to Barry spring mind:

_You’ll never be truly happy._

Scowling, Barry edges a little closer to Hunter as they walk. Then he shakes his head.

His fate, after all, is his alone to decide.

…

He thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you noticed any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let us know (other forms of constructive criticism are also welcome). Otherwise, thanks for sticking around to end of chapter two. Hopefully, we get the other 3-4 chapters posted soon.
> 
> Cheers~


	3. Friends aplenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be a little on the short side, but I promise the next one will be both longer and R-rated. Awesome, right?
> 
> If you notice any spelling or grammar mistakes, let me know. Lady had to duck out for an emergency at the beginning of the week, so this chapter was mostly my diabolical brainchild. Any other forms of constructive criticism are also welcome.
> 
> Please, enjoy~...

For the most part, Cisco doesn’t try to interfere in Barry’s relationship with Hunter anymore beyond checking up on him with the CCTV cameras. He still gives Barry a disapproving look whenever he knows he has another date, but Cisco has long since learned to keep his criticism to himself, because, really, why waste his breath? It’s not as though he could ever change Barry’s mind…

Although he certainly redoubles his efforts after their first kiss.

Speedster abilities aside, Barry has always had a slow reaction time when it came to social cues. He blames it on his disgusting lack of dating experience, but it is what it is, and he’s tilting his face toward Hunter’s before he even knows what he’s doing. They were just innocently standing together by the docks, watching the stars twinkle merrily above the water, when Hunter suddenly turned to him and leaned forward, closing his eyes slowly until their mouths connected.

This is (officially) date number seven for them, but Hunter has been careful not to rush the PDA with Barry. In fact, he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman, no doubt worried Barry would be nervous about dating another man, giving Barry plenty of time even now to retreat. But Barry, though certainly surprised by the move, doesn’t try to avoid the warm lips that press aching slow into his own, instead reaching up to fist the lapels of Hunter’s black wool coat to pull the other man closer.

He blames his reaction on pure instinct, that sensual hum of pleasure that buzzes soothingly at the back of his brain, one of the most basal mechanisms of the human mind: the need to socialize and bond and become a part of the greater whole. But farther back, tucked neatly behind his conscious psyche, is the secret truth: he’s only kissing Hunter because he _wants_ to kiss Hunter. He’s listened to the other man’s life story thus far and has allowed himself to be charmed by him. He feels as though he’s gotten a good enough measure of the other man to lower his defences now—if not completely, then enough to allow Hunter to pull him closer, strong arms enfolding him as he tilts his head to better accommodate the kiss. Barry also allows the very tip of the other man’s tongue to press between his lips, tracing the sharp edge of his teeth before retreating, teasing, so that they can finally breathe again.

Hunter keeps Barry wrapped up in his arms, smiling brightly, cheeks rosy from the brumal wind that blows up off the water and whips around them. It’s as cold as all hell tonight, but neither one of them seems to mind.

Exhaling slowly, Hunter finally says, “ _Wow_.”

The other man’s giddiness is contagious and Barry finds himself smiling before he can wholly comprehend what exactly just happened. “Yeah,” he agrees, before closing his eyes and leaning forward to precipitate the next kiss, realizing then that he’s genuinely yearning for this…this _closeness_ he’s begun to develop with Hunter.

He doesn’t know yet if he can admit to being in love.

They kiss for what feels like a small eternity, alone together on the docks, blissfully unaware of the world around them. When they part for good, Hunter offers to walk him home, but Barry declines. Says that he needs to drop by work again. They’ll be seeing each other again tomorrow anyway though, right? And so they go their respective ways, Hunter homeward bound and Barry off to S.T.A.R. Labs, each smiling, each with something of a skip in their step.

But any sense of elation Barry felt after that kiss is crushed when he enters the Cortex to find Cisco standing there with Joe and Caitlin on either side—

—and on the various wall-mounted monitors behind them are frozen snippets of Barry’s night at the docks.

Barry is completely speechless at first. He feels so…so _betrayed_ —and he hopes the expression on his face faithfully conveys it, because he doesn’t know what words could _possibly_ describe how it feels to have his trust so utterly violated. It must work though, because Cisco has a hard time looking him in the eye, leaving Joe and Caitlin to the task of confronting him.

“I’m not mad,” are the first words out of Joe’s mouth. And sure enough, he doesn’t look angry, although he’s using the same tone of voice he usually reserves for perps when he’s trying to talk them out of doing something phenomenally stupid. “I am, however, very concerned about you right now, Barry.”

“We all are,” Caitlin chimes in, arms crossed protectively across her chest. Her brows are creased with worry and the small step she takes toward him is slow and calculated. “Which is why we need to talk about this.”

Barry momentarily considers booking it from the room. It won’t undo the damage that’s already been done here tonight, but it’ll give him a chance to work through some of the hurt and embarrassment caused by this unorthodox discovery. Perhaps if he had a chance to clear his head, he could argue more effectively against them…

But he doesn’t run, because, realistically, he _knows_ there’s no way in hell he could ever argue his way out of this disaster.

“What’s there to talk about?” he says flatly. Miraculously, his voice doesn’t waver. “I’m dating a man.”

Joe laughs incredulously. “Is that all, then?”

“I know what this looks like,” Barry sighs, “But you don’t—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Joe interjects, raising his hand to silence him. “For the record, I don’t care whether you’re into men or women. That never has been and never will be one of my concerns. But _this guy_ —” He points his finger toward one of the monitors, where Cisco has paused tonight’s footage to show Barry and Hunter parting ways. “—could very well be the man who killed your father.”

“He’s not,” is Barry’s immediate response. He knows he has little to no evidence to support him, but he just…he just _feels_ like it’s the truth.

“We know you’ve been probing him for information,” Caitlin replies, “But you’ve been interrogating this man on your _own_. That isn’t safe.”

“I’m the only person who _can_ interrogate him,” Barry snaps. “Because what if he _is_ Zoom? What is there any of you could possibly do to stop him?”

“Nothing,” she says without hesitation. “Not physically, anyway, but we can certainly help you make a better plan of action. That’s our forte, after all.”

Barry opens his mouth. Then he snaps it shut again.

Joe shifts his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “Look…I will admit, the first time Cisco told me about this little operation of yours, I couldn’t understand why you’d be attracted to the Hunter Zolomon of _any_ Earth, but I guess condemning this guy for Zoom’s crimes is just the same as blaming Harry for Thawne’s. And I still don’t like the obvious age gap between the two of you, but that’s a migraine for another time.” He waves his hand as though to brush that little issue aside for the moment, though clearly he’s still flustered by it. “Your friends are right, Barry. If Hunter is another time remnant, we need to figure that out before he realizes you know the truth.”

Barry…honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. Eventually, he decides to go with: “You’re not telling me to give this up?”

“No,” Caitlin says. When Cisco opens his mouth to voice his own opinion on the matter, she silences him with a glacier look. “We’d really like to talk sometime about why you’re attracted to Hunter of all people, but we’re not going to judge you, Barry, least of all because _some_ members of our team are already head over heels in love with other people of questionable morals.”

“What?” Cisco squeaks incredulously.

“Lisa Snart,” Caitlin replies coldly.

Cisco’s eyes widen momentarily before he awkwardly runs a hand through his hair. Obviously, he never saw that attack coming.

“Her brother almost froze _your_ brother’s hands off,” Joe mutters. “At least Barry’s boyfriend doesn’t have a criminal record, so far as I can tell.”

“Fair enough,” Cisco mumbles.

Barry looks between Joe and Caitlin briefly. “Exactly how long have you guys known about this?”

“We watched your pasta date together in the Cortex,” Caitlin confesses. “Cisco made popcorn. It was kind of…surreal.”

Frowning, Barry turns sharply on Cisco. “You _promised_ —”

“I get it!” Cisco cries, throwing his arms up in mock defeat. “I’m a modern day Judas. But you can flog me _after_ we’ve solved the mystery of Hunter Zolomon, okay? You can’t blame me for being worried.”

Barry shakes his head in disappointment. Then, with a heavy sigh, he says, “So do you guys have a plan of action yet or what?”

“It’s kind of nebulous at the moment,” Caitlin admits quietly.

“I suggested dragging Harry back from Earth-2,” Joe chimes in. “He and Hunter literally _could not_ stand to be in the same room together. Harry would know if something was off about him.”

“But Hunter would know we were on to him the second he latches eyes on Harry,” Cisco replies.

Lifting a finger in contemplation, Caitlin says, “But Detective West has point. Zoom was a consummate liar, so there’s really no telling how long he could lead Barry on. Therefore, the only way to get a better idea of who he _really_ is would be to chat with the people who knew him prior to the Singularity.”

“Have you met any of his friends yet?” Joe inquires.

“No,” Barry sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But he’s been working at the university for almost three years now. He told me he likes his fellow faculty members, so he’s probably befriended a few of them since then. I also think his parents are alive. I could try meeting them.”

“Good, but that still won’t give us a definitive answer,” Cisco interjects. “Once you’ve met them, you should suggest having him meet us. That way, I can vibe him.”

Caitlin cringes. “If he’s Zoom, he’s going to avoid shaking your hand like the plague.”

“Exactly. It’ll be a dead giveaway—which is why we should have him come _here_ to meet us. That way, Barry won’t have to drag him halfway across the city just to contain him.”

“But coming here would also be a dead giveaway, would it not?”

“Depends on what kind of excuse Barry gives him.” Cisco murmurs, but then his face slowly brightens, like he just came up with the most brilliant plan. “The holidays are coming up soon, so why don’t we just throw our annual Christmas Eve party here? Hunter knows Barry was a patient at S.T.A.R, Labs, so he shouldn’t really have to explain how we already know each other.”

Barry nods slowly. “That could work.”

“Then there’s our plan,” Joe sighs. “Try to meet as many of his friends and family as you possibly can in the next two weeks. Then bring him here. The rest of us will figure out how to contain him if things go awry.”

Barry nods again. Then he clears his throat. “I agree. There’s just one other thing I would like to address before we adjourn this little intervention of yours.”

Quietly, all eyes turn toward him.

Steeling himself, Barry says, “No more microphones.”

Cisco frowns.

“ _Please_ ,” Barry begs, hoping he can get through to them before Cisco has a chance to open his mouth. “It’s really hard trying to act natural when I know someone is eavesdropping on me. You can still spy on me with the CCTV cameras, but the audio recordings have to stop.”

“Deal,” Caitlin replies sharply, eyeing Cisco herself.

Barry’s shoulders slump in relief.

“But you have to tell us if he says anything that alarms you,” she continues. “You promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then it’s settled.” Smoothing out the front of her dress, Caitlin turns her attention back to the monitors along the far wall. The uppermost screen on the left is currently displaying a close-up of Hunter’s smiling face, cheeks rosy from the cold. “I’ll be completely honest with you though on one thing, Barry…Hunter Zolomon is a good looking guy.”

Joe laughs a little under his breath.

Cisco groans.

Barry stares at the screen mutely and nods.

She has no idea just how much he agrees with her.

~***~

Joe gives him a few tips and tricks on how to squeeze a man for information, one of which Barry likes enough that he implements it the very next day:

Showing up unannounced.

He already knows Hunter’s teaching schedule, so all it takes is a cursory glance at the University of Central City’s course list to figure out where his ‘Advanced Topics in Chemical Engineering’ seminar is being held. Barry then clocks into work, whips through his usual duties at lightning speed, and finally ducks out early for the day so he can slip into Hunter’s class a couple of minutes before it’s due to be over.

The lecture hall hosting the class is a rather large amphitheatre of twenty or so rows of seats steeply descending toward the lecturer’s podium. The far wall at the bottom is almost completed covered by four old-fashioned chalkboards scribbled over with chemical equations and the caricature of a scientist screaming at a flaming Erlenmeyer flask. There’s only about thirty people in the classroom at the moment, most seated in the lower rows, heads turned toward a woman on the far right who’s currently trying to argue her point to another student. Hunter, meanwhile, is sitting on the small desk beside the podium, watching his two students debate as he fiddles with a piece of chalk in his hand—perfectly situated to catch sight of Barry as he creeps into the room through one of the doors at the top of the amphitheatre.

He does a double take when he realizes who his visitor is.

Then he smiles.

Barry smiles in return and slips into a seat at the far back of the room. The students are arguing over the ethics of producing some drug he’s never heard of before until there’s a dull buzz from the clock above his head. No doubt it’s an alarm to signify the end of the class, as evidenced by the way everyone suddenly scampers to shove their laptops and notebooks into their bags. Hunter shouts something over the din about the date and location of their final exam as the students herd themselves toward the back of the room, watching as they squeeze through the doors until only Barry, himself, and a petite woman are all that remain.

Barry rises from his seat then and wanders down toward the front of the room. Hunter stays perched on the edge of his desk, still smiling, as the petite woman walks over to the chalkboards and begins wiping them down. She’s clearly older than most of the other students. Barry assumes she’s a Teaching Assistant.

_Perfect._

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Hunter says as Barry makes his way over. Hunter is taller than him, so looking down on the other man is an unusual feeling, one that somehow spurs Barry into leaning forward to give the man a quick peck on the lips.

Hunter’s eyebrows arch in surprise, smiling wider when Barry slowly leans back again. “Well…hello to you too.”

“I got off work early today,” Barry says. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

“What intrusion?” Hunter chuckles. “Maybe if you stormed in here with a tuba, I’d consider it an intrusion. Otherwise, you’re welcome to drop by whenever you want. I love visitors. Right, Tina?” 

The woman pauses mid-stroke, inclining her head to stare at the both. There’s a twinkle in her eye when she says, “Please, take him off my hands already. He never shuts up.”

“Ha,” Hunter laughs drily. “Barry, this is Tina Yoon, one of my _very_ expendable TAs. Tina, this is Barry.”

“I’m only joking,” she sighs, dropping the felt eraser onto the small ledge below the chalkboard before turning toward them. “Barry, huh? And here I thought he dreamt you up.”

“Why?” Barry inquires. “What did he say about me?”

Tina glances mischievously at Hunter—who, honest to god, is suddenly _blushing._ Then she returns her gaze to Barry and says, “Just some _very_ flattering things. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried.”

Winking at Hunter, Tina wanders over to the desk and grabs one of the small cardboard boxes staked behind him. The top one is lidless, so Barry is able to catch a glimpse of its contents—which turn out to be nothing more than a thick pile of hand-written assignments.

Groaning, Hunter finally pushes himself up off the desk, planting a hand on Barry’s hip to gently nudge him aside before turning to grab the other box. “I hate marking this assignment. Last semester, the average for it was 53%.”

“Really?” Tina murmurs as she marches off toward a small door half hidden in the shadows beside the leftmost chalkboard. Barry figures it’s a shortcut to the faculty offices. “I always get a good laugh out of this one.”

Hunter grumbles something else before taking off after her. Barry, naturally, brings up the rear of their little group, following them through a series of narrow, winding hallways until they reach a dead end. Here Tina whips out a set of keys from her back pocket and unlocks the last door on the right.

Inside is a small, windowless office, the only furniture within being a large desk, a couple of chairs, and two tall bookshelves crammed full with old textbooks and journals.

Tina deposits her box on the desk, eyes roaming the room speculatively before turning to Barry. “Middle of nowhere, right?”

“It has its charms,” Hunter quips as he drops his box next to hers. Then he glances at Barry. “I’m stuck here until the university finishes its construction on the new centennial building, but at least it’s quiet.”

“Students always get lost on their way down here,” Tina chuckles. Then she peeks into the two boxes. “Where’s your pointer?”

Hunter pats his trouser pockets, sighing. “I think I left it in the room. I’ll be right back.”

Barry smiles as he watches the other man duck back out into the hallway, waiting until the gentle rap of Hunter’s footsteps fade into the distance before he turns to Tina and says, “How long have you two known each other?”

She shrugs, then reaches into the first box, pulling out the assignments to sort them out on the desk in alphabetical order. “I’ve been one of his TAs since he started working here. So that’s, what, maybe three years now? …Yeah, that feels about right.”

Barry isn’t sure how to press her for information about Hunter without sounded too inquisitive, so he clears his throat and tries for a more indirect route. “You enjoy running this course?”

“It would be nice if it wasn’t held so late in the evening, but yeah.” Reaching into the second box now, she flashes Barry a warm smile. “Hunter’s been arguing with the department to have it moved to an earlier time slot, so maybe we’ll luck out next semester. I think we’d have a better turn out with the students if that was the case.”

“Does, uh…does Hunter enjoy running the course?”

Tina sets the second large stack onto the desk and then pauses. She licks her lips, yet another smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “He’s right. You _are_ refreshingly awkward.”

Barry swallows, confused. “I am?”

“Oh, _absolutely_.” Abandoning the assignments now, Tina leans into the desk with her left hip and crosses her arms, looking Barry over as though he were some kind of fantastic creature. Briefly, her eyes flicker to the door, as though worried someone would materialize there any second now. “Look…Hunter will probably tell you this himself someday, but I haven’t seen him this giddy in a _very_ long time. He’s starting to remind me of the old Hunter again.”

Gradually, Barry can feel his old fears crawling out of the darkness again, much in the same way they did when he first encountered Hunter Zolomon in the park.

He can’t help but wonder how _this_ Hunter is different from the _old_ Hunter…

Assuming, of course, that the two men are one in the same.

Tina’s face falls suddenly. “Oh, god—I did _not_ mean to scare you. I promise, it’s not anything like what you’re probably imagining right now.”

“Oh?” Barry mumbles, trying to contain himself. He really hopes he doesn’t look half as terrified as he actually feels right now.

“He was just…very sad.” Cringing, Tina starts chewing on her lower lip. “Great, now I don’t know what to tell you… Did he ever mention anything about his fiancé?”

Barry blinks in surprise. “He’s engaged?”

“Was.” She amends, still cringing. “Wow, I should’ve never opened my mouth. Hunter’s going to kill me.”

“And why would I do that?”

Both Barry and Tina swivel their heads toward the door where Hunter is standing with his laser pointer in hand. To her credit, Tina demonstrates an uncanny ability to think on her feet when she immediately says, “Because I was just telling Barry that your desk is probably sturdy enough to have sex on.”

Embarrassed, Barry can suddenly feel the heat rising on his face.

Hunter’s face, on the other hand, is completely blank, probably because he’s already accustomed to such unruly jokes. Then he slowly blinks and nods toward the door. “Tina, go home.”

With a nervous laugh, Tina reaches out to squeeze Barry’s arm comfortingly. “I _really_ hope you drop by again sometime. Now that I know you aren’t a figment of Hunter’s imagination, everyone in the department is going to want to meet you.”

Hunter gives her a look of long suffering. “ _Tina_ , please…”

Barry finally laughs.

“See you around, cutie!” She chirps before darting past Hunter, glancing back over her shoulder to wink at him.

Barry offers her a small wave goodbye.

Hunter rubs the bridge of his nose. Slowly, he says, “Tina has…a _lot_ of nervous energy. I hope she didn’t embarrass you.”

“Not at all,” Barry replies, stepping forward. “She’s nice. She’s clearly very fond of you.”

“She’s a good friend,” Hunter sighs, “Although she has a habit of saying the most awkward things. Anyway…” Taking a step closer himself, Hunter tosses his laser pointer onto his desk, then takes a glance at the clock mounted above his office door. “You hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Good…” Raising a hand to cup the side of Barry’s face, Hunter slowly ducks his head down for a kiss.

Barry relaxes into his touch, heart fluttering from the newness of it all.

There’s a twinkle in Hunter’s eyes when he eventually pulls back. “God, I _really_ love kissing you.”

“Same,” Barry breathes. Then he licks his tingling lips and says, “Chinese?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course.” Hunter laughs. “Sounds like a plan. I know one of the best buffets in town.”

Fear slowly abating, Barry slips his hand into Hunter’s and nods at the door.

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've got all our ducks in a row, get ready for a roller coaster of love, fear, and mystery in the following chapters...


	4. Bruises of the heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady might get a little mad that I didn't break this up into two chapters, but why make the readers wait? That's my motto.

 

“And the name of our mystery person _is~_ …?”

Shuffling into the Cortex, half-starved after spending yet another night darting through the city streets at breakneck speed, Barry pulls back his hood and drops heavily into the empty chair between Caitlin and Cisco. Defeated, he shrugs. “Tina certainly wasn’t the only person to mention Hunter’s recent ‘transformation’, but nobody else in the Department said anything about his fiancé. I’m not even sure how to ask them about it without sounding suspicious. I mean, Hunter’s always with me when I’m at the University. I’m limited in what I can say.”

“Joe dropped by earlier,” Caitlin sighs, idly twirling a lock of hair around her pen. “He said if Hunter had been married, he could just dig up his partner’s file and figure out what happened to them. But since Joe doesn’t even have a marriage license to work with, there’s nothing he can do for us until you _at least_ get him a name.”

Irritably, Barry tugs off his gloves and tosses them onto the keyboard in front of him. Then he rubs his eyes. He’s been losing way too much sleep over this investigation lately. “Tell me again why this is so important?”

For a long moment, his question is met with silence. Then Caitlin pokes him in the ribs. Gently, of course, but Barry’s eyes are closed and he’s not accustomed to other people getting the drop on him, so he flinches so hard he just about falls out of his seat.

“If the disappearance of this so-called fiancé coincides with the appearance of the Singularity, that would be a pretty big cause for concern, wouldn’t you agree?” she postulates, one delicate eyebrow arched in challenge.  

It’s the truth, and he knows it, so he sighs and nods in agreement. She has a point. They all do. He’s just…

He’s just so _tired_.

Stretching out his aching legs in front of him, he wonders what Hunter is up to right now. He’d asked for the night off, mumbling something about needing to finish marking his students’ final exams. The Department rules stated that all instructors had to submit their grades before December the 20th, so he would do what he did every year: crack out the container of Harrods’ Signature Blend Coffee his cousin bought for him in London last year and drown himself in over-caffeinated drinks until he had a heart attack. And then, once the shock of it all wore off, he’d—

“Earth 1 to Barry,” Cisco quips, waving a hand in front of his face. Barry blinks stupidly and just stares at him. “…I swear to god, I don’t know where you go sometimes.”

Barry fidgets nervously in his seat. He hasn’t meant to be so absent-minded lately. It’s just sometimes he feels as though all of this is all a dream. He supposes that’s why he often finds his mind wandering to Hunter, the man with the blessedly _normal_ life.

Finally, he mumbles, “I’m sorry, Cisco.”

“Don’t be sorry, man.”

“We’re just worried about you,” Caitlin chimes in, turning in her seat to face him. Barry has a feeling that another lecture about his well-being is suddenly forthcoming. “You’re nowhere near as talkative as you were before the summer.”

“We know you’re still grieving over what happened to your dad,” Cisco adds, “but we used to all be so open about everything. You don’t have to bottle up your feelings, Barry. There’s no need to put up a brave front with us.”

“It’s more than that,” Barry says softly. “I’m not grieving. I’m just…tired.”

“That’s a common symptom of grief,” Caitlin replies. “You might even—”

“No,” Barry interjects, though just as softly, holding up his hand in a silent plea for an opportunity to speak, “It’s more complicated than that. I can’t even explain…”

As his voice trails off, he glances at Caitlin again, at her slightly parted lips and gently furrowed brows, concern etched into the faint creases of her face. When he turns to Cisco, he’s met with the same look.

Barry sighs and rubs irritably at his eyes again.

And then…

And then he tells them everything.

He tells them about the first time he tried to turn back the clock to save his mother—to _really_ save her, and the fallout that resulted from that simple, if somewhat selfish, endeavour. He then tells them about the mayhem that followed from trying to return their Earth to its original state and how he had been warned by Jay against doing so again. But the Speed Force was not a benevolent being, and though maintaining justice and equilibrium throughout the multiverse was the sole purpose behind bestowing Barry with his powers, it was by no means his friend. There were rules, Barry explained, and the Speed Force was determined to make him suffer the consequences for breaking them.

But he was human.

He was human and he couldn’t leave well alone, and even after trying to accept the twisted fate delivered to him by one timeline or another, there was always some calamity that forced his hand. And it didn’t help that he couldn’t always remember changing the timeline. It was only when he re-entered the time stream, memories of past lives flashing before his very eyes, that he would understand that this was a well-trodden path, one that he might be damned to run for all eternity.

And then he wound up… _here_ , in this timeline, with everything the way it was before his first foray into the past. What’s more, this was the longest he’d retained all his memories of the many lives he already lived. Therefore, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the Speed Force had finally decided to bring his punishment to an end.

Usually something horrible would’ve happened by now.

“How horrible is ‘horrible’?” Cisco echoes quietly, chewing on the back of his pen. The look he’s trying to go for is ‘mildly interested’, but Barry can tell his little tale has got him well and truly spooked.

Barry turns to look Caitlin and then slowly back at Cisco. Finally, he says, “Let’s just say…I’m happy you’re both still alive.”

“ _Seriously_?” Cisco cries, whipping his pen from his mouth. His hand trembles faintly as he drops it onto the keyboard in front of him. “But why would we be dead? Wouldn’t you have to _personally_ change some aspect of the past in order to make such a huge difference?”

“I don’t understand it completely myself,” Barry admits quietly. “But making such large leaps through time causes… _ripples_ , these tiny disruptions that unintentionally make drastic changes in a person’s life. Now, these changes are usually limited to any time after the Speed Force made a connection with me, the night I became a speedster, but you’d be surprised how easily everything can spiral out of control in just one day. It’s like the butterfly effect, except I can never tell how severe the resulting hurricane will be.”

“And this time, Hunter is the one who’s life was altered by the ripples…” Cisco murmurs. Then he suddenly frowns. “Well, now I’d _really_ like to know why you’re dating the guy. If you’ve suffered so many personal hells before, logically he _should_ be Zoom.”

Barry drops his gaze to his lap, a little lost for words. Technically, he has an answer to Cisco’s question, but it sounds so stupid in his own mind that he’s almost ashamed to give it voice.

On his other side, Caitlin slowly leans toward the main console, resting against it with her elbow, the better to prop her head up with her fist. It’s almost 2am and she looks exhausted, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes, as though she’s already figured out the mystery for herself. Finally, she says, “Because if he _isn’t_ Zoom, then that means the spell is broken. Barry can finally see this timeline through to the very end.”

Barry’s throat suddenly feels tight, so he nods mutely, thankful that she was able to summarize his thoughts so eloquently.

Cisco nods too. “I guess that just leaves me with one last burning question…Do you really love him?”

Barry tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. It doesn’t work. “I…I think so?” he chokes out. “At least, I’m starting to.”

And for that reason alone, he’s scared.

He’s so _very_ , very scared…

“Hey, it’s okay,” Caitlin says softly, reaching over to rub his shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out.”

He has no doubt they will, but that doesn’t do much to stomp out this growing sense of unease, because what if this Hunter Zolomon _is_ Zoom?

Which one of Barry’s loved ones will he kill next?

“Thanks for listening, guys.” Rising from his seat, he grabs his gloves, wandering around the main console to prop his suit back up on his mannequin. “I’m meeting him again tomorrow afternoon. I’ll see what else I can do to get his fiancé’s name.”

“Awesome,” Cisco replies encouragingly, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “And any time, man. You can talk to us whenever you want.”

Barry offers him a small smile, genuinely thankful for the offer, but he knows that isn’t true.

Having already lived so many lives, he knows when it’s better to suffer in silence.

~***~

The following day finds Barry and Hunter back at the park, sitting on their usual bench, enjoying a couple of club sandwiches that Barry whipped up himself earlier that morning. It’s gotten chillier outside the last couple of days and fewer people are milling about now, but the sky is clear and they’re both bundled up against the cold. Hunter has also taken this opportunity to deviously wrap an arm around Barry’s shoulders, pulling him closer to apparently better ‘share their warmth’.

Once Barry’s polished off his sandwich, he stuffs a gloved hand into his jacket pocket to fish out one of Cisco’s proteins bars, tightly wound up in syran wrap. He still feels a little famished from last night.

Holding the last half of his sandwich in one hand, Hunter takes another bite and munches thoughtfully for a couple of seconds before he swallows and says, “You eat an awful lot of those. Are they homemade?”

“A friend of mine makes them.” Sinking his teeth into the bar, Barry realizes this one tastes alarmingly of mustard.

Clearly, Cisco’s been fiddling with his recipe again.

“Are they any good?”

Barry shrugs. Cisco’s protein bars are a hit-or-miss kind of thing. Odd as the flavour is, this one isn’t too bad.

Hunter laughs. “Then why do you eat them?”

Chewing on Cisco’s latest creation, Barry glances up at Hunter and ponders what to tell him. Eventually, he settles on the truth: “I have a high metabolism.”

“I gathered,” Hunter chuckles, shifting a little in his seat in such a way that he slips marginally closer to Barry. Then he pops the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth and goes back to munching thoughtfully, staring out across the path at a group of teenagers lounging around on a picnic blanket.

Barry shifts a little in his seat. He’s trying to figure out a way to ask Hunter about his fiancé, but he doesn’t know where to begin. How do people normally bring that sort of thing into a conversation? Do they dive headfirst into the problem or do they wait for a more appropriate segue?

Nervously, Barry glances at his wristwatch without consciously making note of the time. He has four days left until the Christmas Eve party, and he hasn’t even broached the subject of _that_ yet.

God, _what_ is he doing?...

Having finally finished his sandwich, Hunter suddenly clears his throat.

Barry stares at the man expectantly, secretly glad for the interruption.

“I know we haven’t been dating for very long now, but there’s something I wanted to ask you.” Idly, Hunter dusts the crumbs off his hand by rubbing it against his jean clad thigh. Then he clears his throat again, obviously nervous. “My parents were wondering if you’d like to have dinner with us on the 23rd. They’re going to be driving out to their cabin for the holidays, otherwise they’d invite you down on the 25th. But if you’re not comfortable, we can—”

“Yes,” Barry says immediately. After all, this is literally the kind of break he’d been hoping for, because who else would be better to probe for information about Hunter’s fiancé than his own parents? “I would love to have dinner with them.”

“Really?” Hunter asks, grinning. Barry might be imagining things, but there almost seems to be a twinkle in his eyes.

Barry suddenly feels a small twinge of regret, feeling mildly disgusted with himself for thinking about this whole situation purely in terms of digging for more information. That’s…that’s not what he really wants.

“Barry?” Hunter inquires, smile slowly fading.

Not wanting to worry the other man, Barry steals a quick kiss. “I’m sorry,” he says when he pulls away. “I was just thinking about my parents.”

Hunter nods in understanding. “This is going to be your first Christmas without your father, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Barry sighs. Though he’s lost his father countless times before, the familiar ache is still there inside his heart, a constant reminder of his failure.

“Hey,” Hunter says softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“No, it’s fine.” Barry pats the other man’s thigh. “I think he would’ve been thrilled to meet you.”

“I would’ve been thrilled to meet him too,” Hunter replies, giving the hand on his thigh a gentle squeeze. “But…how do you think he’d feel about me giving his only son a ride on my motorcycle?”

Grinning, Barry arches his eyebrows surprise. “That isn’t an euphemism, is it?”

Hunter laughs. In fact, he laughs so hard, he startles the kids lounging around on the grass. “I guess I could’ve worded that differently.” Still chuckling, he licks his lips and tries again. “Sorry. What I mean to say is, neither one of us has a car, but my parents live just outside Keystone City. It would be easier to get there if we could ride my motorcycle. Unless, of course, you don’t want to…”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I?” Barry replies. Not that he expects it to be anywhere near as exhilarating as running faster than the average man can blink, but riding a motorcycle used to be on his bucket list prior to gaining his powers. “I’d love to. I just thought you’d given it up.”

Hunter shrugs, as though embarrassed. “I don’t know why. I just decided on a whim to fire it up a couple of nights ago. The roads aren’t all that busy after midnight, so it’s given me the opportunity to get the feel for it again. Riding it feels…oddly liberating.”

“Then I’m looking forward to it,” Barry replies. And he really means that. He’s all too familiar with the kind of high a guy can get from drifting seamlessly through the city streets. He’s also glad Hunter’s finally trying to battle his personal demons head on.

“You’ll love it,” Hunter assures him. “Believe me, there’s nothing else like it in the world.”

Barry knows otherwise, but he coyly keeps that little secret to himself, leaning in to kiss the other man, because he looks oh so irresistible when he’s giddy like this.

When they pull away, Hunter smiles at him, looking somewhat perplexed.

Quietly, he asks, “Do those bars always taste like mustard?”

~***~

As expected, Hunter meets him on the 23rd at the northern gate of their favorite park.

Barry arrives to find Hunter already standing beside his bike in a black leather jacket and dark pants, sans the glasses, which momentarily sends his mind reeling. In fact, he looks so much like Zoom without the mask, it stops Barry dead in his tracks.

Obviously misinterpreting Barry’s shock as awe, Hunter nods at his bike and says, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Barry replies breathlessly. And, oddly enough, it does help to focus on the bike instead of Hunter for a moment—which, in all honesty, is something of a beauty, with all that black and silver chrome, still gleaming in the fading daylight. “What is this?”

“It’s a DUU,” Hunter explains proudly. “This one is a Nottenebbia. Looks good as new, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Barry takes a step closer to inspect this beast of a machine. Admittedly, he knows next to nothing about motorcycles, mostly because he knew he would never make enough to afford one. “Not that I’m scared or anything, but…how exactly did you crash it?”

Hunter sighs, as though he knew this question was a long-time coming. “I was hit by a drunk driver who was pulling out of a parking lot. Thankfully, neither one of us was going very fast, otherwise I could’ve ended up a lot worse.”

Barry cringes. “When did you have your accident?”

 “About a year ago. One of the worst days of my life, but I survived.”

 “I’m glad,” Barry replies. He takes another step closer and runs his fingers along one of the handlebars. Then he asks, “Where are your glasses?”

“I hate wearing them with my helmet, so I usually wear my contacts when I ride.” Hunter picks up one of the two helmets balanced on the seat behind him and hands it to Barry. Tucked inside, Barry finds a pair of gloves. “And speaking of safety precautions…”

Immediately, Hunter launches into a long spiel about how to ride safely as a passenger. He’d warned Barry earlier to wear a heavy jacket and boots, which Barry had diligently donned before coming out here tonight, and now he ran him through a rather extensive lesson on how to mount and dismount, hold himself while riding, and communicate with Hunter while they were in motion. Barry is actually surprised by the complexity of the instructions, although he can see the necessity of it all, given the inherit danger of riding a motorcycle.

Once Hunter feels as though he’s sufficiently covered the basics, he says, “I’ve been riding bikes since I was old enough to get a license, and I’ve only crashed once, so please don’t be afraid. However, if you start to get a little nervous, do _not_ hesitate to let me know. I’ll park my bike and we’ll call a taxi to drive us the rest of the way.”

“Do a lot of people call it quits?”

“No, but there’s no shame in asking me to stop. Riding as a passenger is harder than most people think.”

“I can imagine…”

“I mean it,” Hunter says, reaching out to grab Barry’s hand. He gives it a small squeeze. “I won’t mind if you ask me to stop.”

Barry squeezes his hand back and smiles. “I know…”

The ride, however, is uneventful.

And Barry predicted as much. He could shift his weight wherever Hunter needed him to in less than a millisecond, which made for a rather smooth ride through Keystone City to the small acreage Hunter’s parents owned on the outskirts of town. It was oddly relaxing to watch the world pass by in a blur without having to move a muscle, the kind of experience he rarely had the opportunity to enjoy.

Hunter is absolutely pleased with the ride. When both he and Barry dismount the bike and pull off their helmets, he draws Barry in for a kiss.

“Almost everyone is a little wobbly at first,” Hunter laughs, “but not you. This can’t be your first time on a bike.”

“I swear to god, it is.”

“That’s incredible.” He kisses Barry again and then turns around, staring at the large, white house beside the lane. There’s a classic Christmas wreath hanging from the front door and a long string of coloured lights lining the eaves. Out in the middle of the lawn, an old, plastic snowman stands guard.

“Good old Frosty,” Hunter murmurs lovingly as he sizes up the snowman. Then his gaze focuses on something beyond it, toward the large bay window on the front of the house.

Suddenly, Barry realizes a man is standing there, watching them, the spitting image of what he assumes Hunter will look like in the next thirty or so years.

Taking one of Barry’s hands in his own, Hunter nods toward the house. “Let’s get you introduced, shall we?”

Barry swallows and nods.

It’s showtime.

~***~

James Zolomon’s hands are large and warm when they fold around the one Barry offers for a shake. There’s streaks of white hair above his temples and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and the smile he bestows upon Barry is so wide and inviting that Barry can’t help but smile in return.

“Barry Allen,” the older Zolomon says softly, giving Barry’s hand a firm but amiable squeeze before releasing it. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Once James has relinquished his hold on Barry, he grabs Hunter by his shoulders and pulls him into a solid hug, thumping him merrily on the back. “Glad you could make it, son.”

“Always,” Hunter replies, pulling away. Narrowing his eyes, he quickly scans the dimly lit living room, no doubt taking in the spruced-up Christmas tree in one corner and the miniature decorations dominating almost every available surface. There’s even fat fluffs of cotton bunched up on the fireplace mantel to simulate snow. “Where’s mom?”

James jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing vaguely toward the enclosed kitchen and the rest of the house. “She’s in her office. But you know how business is. Wild horses couldn’t drag her away from that laptop.”

“The cabin has no wifi,” Hunter tells Barry, sotto voice. “That’s why dad drags her out there every Christmas.” Then he pauses to sniff the air. Sure enough, something smells heavenly. “You’re making goose again this year?”

“Absolutely,” James chuckles, turning away to duck into the kitchen. “And I’ve made your grandmother’s stuffing. You’re going to have a hard time balancing on that motorcycle when I’m through with you.”

Hunter follows his father into the kitchen, and Barry, likewise, follows him. He stops dead in his tracks though when he catches sight of food already spread out on a large table to the right. The man had apparently made everything—stuffing, brussel sprouts, corn, carrots, potatoes, gravy, freshly baked bread, pumpkin pie, ham, cranberry sauce…

Already, Barry can feel his mouth watering.

As if on cue, his stomach growls.

Both Hunter and James turn to him, the latter laughing heartily. “I’m glad you’re hungry. You two boys aren’t allowed to leave the house until that table is clear.”

Hunter gives Barry a knowing look, smirking, before reaching up to unzip his leather jacket.

Barry blushes and decides to change the subject. “So, your mother runs a business? What does she do?”

“She’s an engineer,” Hunter explains, reaching over now to take Barry’s coat. “Runs a consulting company. Does a lot of work for the city.”

“My Ashley’s one smart gal,” James concedes, squatting down in front of his stove to glance at the goose inside. “That’s how we were able to afford this lush little plot of land.”

“You take after your mother then?” Barry muses aloud to Hunter, marveling at the twist in fate. Ashley Zolomon had been a housewife for most of her life on Earth 2, working a brief stunt in a munitions factory when the War of the Americas was in full swing. James Zolomon worked as a bank teller until he was conscripted. “What do you do, Mr. Zolomon?”

James gives another hearty laugh before returning to his full height. “Barry, please, call me James. And to answer your question, I’m an English professor.  That’s where Hunter gets his academic bend.”

“An English professor?” Barry echoes, eyebrows inching upward.

“His speciality is Irish poetry,” Hunter elaborates before returning to the living room, jackets in tow.

“ _If you do not love me, I shall not be loved. If I do not love you, I shall not love…_ ” James smiles, eyes twinkling. “Samuel Beckett. Famous poet of the last century.”

Barry smiles too. “That sounds beautiful.”

“Irish poetry is always beautiful.” James winks. Then he glances up at the clock above the kitchen sink and tuts. “Hunter!” He calls. “Collect your mother, if you would. Barry—please, have a seat. Sit wherever you like.”

Nodding gratefully, Barry takes up the chair nearest to him, eyeing the steaming bowls of food as James busies himself about pulling the goose out of the oven and carving it up on a separate plater. Hunter, meanwhile, marches back through the kitchen and then down a narrow hallway at the other end of the room. He knocks on one of the doors to the left and ducks out of sight.

Barry leans back in his seat and presses his hands flat against his thighs, drumming his fingers against his jeans. Being here feels so… _surreal_. In fact, his mind is kind of reeling over how utterly romantic James Zolomon is, humming under his breath as he carves up his golden goose, softly singing a verse or two under his breath. Barry doesn’t really recognize the tune, but he’s almost certain its the aria from some opera.

He wonders if he should try engaging James in a little more conversation instead of just sitting there but then Hunter reappears, followed shortly by an older woman, one who looks very much like the Ashely Zolomon from the Earth 2 newspaper clippings. The only difference here are the wisps of white in her brown hair which has been pulled back in a loose bun, the dark red lips pursed tightly together, and the black framed glasses perched on low on the bridge of her nose. Overall, she has an undeniable air of severity—but once she catches sight of Barry, she smiles brightly, adjusts her glasses, and extends her hand for a shake.

“You must be Barry!” she exclaims. Oddly enough, her grip is firmer than her husbands, though not unpleasantly so. “You have no idea how delighted I was to hear you could make it!”

“Thank you for inviting me,” he replies, watching as she drops gracefully into the seat adjacent to him. Hunter takes up the empty seat on his other side. “I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, it’s our pleasure!” Leaning against the table with her elbows, fingers steepled together under her chin, she gives her son a pleased look before returning her gaze to Barry. “ _So_ …Hunter tells me you’re a CSI. That must be exciting.”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“Probably requires a lot of paper work, I imagine,” she sympathizes. “Were you able to get time off this Christmas or are you on call tonight, hon? Hunter’s told us you sometimes have to drop everything for a case.”

“My boss knows I’m entirely unavailable tonight,” he replies.

“ _Good_ ,” she says firmly, smile widening. Her eyes are literally shinning as she looks between Hunter and Barry. “That means we’ve got you all to ourselves tonight.”

He smiles back warmly and nods as Hunter gently knocks their knees together under the table.

Eternally optimistically, Barry somehow knows tonight is going to turn out alright.

~***~

And it does, even if meeting the Zolomons is an experience unlike anything Barry would’ve ever expected.

The picture that their family paints is a simple one: James and Ashley fell in love in college, two completely polar opposites who were only similar in sense that they were both highly career-orientated individuals. James came from a family of seven ragtag children, being somewhat carefree and overly emotive at times. He was imaginative and kind and occasionally a little too talkative, but Barry could tell by the way Ashley exaggerated the slow roll of her eyes that she was very fond of her husband, despite his apparent flaws.

Ashley Zolomon, on the other hand, grew up with two older brothers. Her father and all her uncles were military men, half of whom were dead now thanks to their service, although Hunter’s grandfather was still alive. After seeing the horrors of war, he forbade Ashley and her siblings from pursuing a military career themselves, which is why she had defaulted to engineering instead. She was quiet and pensive and could sit patiently for hours on end with her work, but she was sweet in her own way too. She had always wanted a child, and so when her small company blossomed into something far beyond even her expectations, the Zolomons bought the acreage and had Hunter.

“Our boy jokes about getting a job in the East Coast, but we know he wants to move back here someday,” James explains as he settles into one of the winged-back chairs in the living room. Hunter and Ashley are still in the kitchen, packing up what remains of the food and washing the mountain of dishes. James was excused from the task because he made dinner; Barry, because he was their honoured guest. “He loves this house.”

Satiated by the meal, Barry sinks into the loveseat beside the man, glancing at the small village of candle houses set up on the coffee table, tiny figurines running through the imaginary streets. Vaguely, Barry seems to recall his mother making a similar set-up when he was a child.

While James stares at the empty fireplace, obviously debating whether or not he should light it up, Barry glances at the various other displays around the room. Eventually, his eyes settle on a series of photos tucked into a small bookcase on his left. In one of the photographs is Hunter, grinning widely as a young man with wispy blond hair kisses his cheek.

Barry feels something in his stomach clench.

“Ah,” James says quietly to his right, seeming to realize what caught Barry’s eye. He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “That’s Jonah.”

Barry glances briefly over his shoulder toward the kitchen. He can’t see anyone from where he’s sitting, but he can hear Hunter and his mother laughing about something over the gentle clink of glassware.

James follows his gaze and, seeming to understand again, gives Barry a small nod. “Hunter hasn’t had a chance to tell you about Jonah yet, has he?”

Barry swallows and then licks his lips. “One of Hunter’s co-workers said he was once engaged.”

Another small nod. “They met in college. In fact, Jonah was an old student of mine. He bumped into Hunter outside my office at the end of the semester, and well…the rest, as they say, is history.”

Barry wonders briefly if he should ask the burning question at the back of his mind, nervously crossing one leg over the other as he considers how to word it. Somehow though, James doesn’t need to hear it.

“He died of cancer,” the old man says softly. “It was all very sudden. He was diagnosed one summer and didn’t make it to the end of the year. It struck us very hard.”

“I’m so sorry,” Barry whispers.

Staring down at his lap for a moment, James takes a slow, deep breath. “I know…I hope you don’t mind, but Hunter already told us about your parents. It’s nice being able to talk to someone who’s experienced a similar ordeal.”

Barry nods, but slowly something else occurs to him:

What if _this_ was the consequence of this timeline?

What if Hunter had only met him because Barry’s meddling killed Jonah?

Suddenly, he feels faint.

“…Son, are you going to be alright?”

“What?” Barry breathes, mind racing. His mouth is suddenly bone-dry. “I…I mean, yes.” He tries to clear his throat, “When did he die, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Not at all.” Tilting his head back, James stares up at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Oh, it was after Hunter started teaching in Central…Yes, because Jonah passed away a few months before that explosion, the one at S.T.A.R. Labs.” James frowns. “Terrible business, wasn’t it? Hunter told us it put you in a coma.”

And just like that, the terrible cloud gathering over Barry’s head slowly dissipates, leaving him to feel terribly lightheaded.

Jonah was diagnosed and died long before the explosion.

His death isn’t on Barry’s hands.

Running his fingers through his hair, Barry says, “Hunter’s coworkers implied as much. Said he was only just beginning to act like his old self again.”

Slowly, James reaches over from his seat to place his hand gently on top of Barry’s where he’s braced it against the armrest of the couch. That familiar twinkle is back in his eyes. “Barry, Jonah’s death put my son in a dark place for a very long time. His recovery was slow, if anything, until he met you. I don’t know if you realize just how happy you make him.”

Barry’s at a loss for words.

James chuckles. “I’m not trying to guilt you into staying with him, of course. I just think it’s important that you know my boy’s heart bruises easily. He’s not as strong as he thinks he is.”

“I understand,” Barry says quietly. “And for what it’s worth, Hunter’s pulled me out of a pretty dark place too. He’s…changed me.”

“Kindred spirits,” James murmurs warmly, giving Barry hand a small pat before retreating once more into his seat. “Makes for the best romances, don’t you think? In fact, there’s one particular poem that suddenly springs to mind…”

Barry eases back into the couch, listening quietly as James talks about his work. The surrealism of seeing Hunter’s family in action has long since worn off, leaving him to feel oddly warm and satisfied. Hunter, he thinks, is just normal man with a normal father and a normal mother, all of whom have known and loved each other for years. There are no interlopers here.

Just…people.

After a while, head slowly drooping toward his chest in a food-induced lethargy, Barry announces that he’d like to get a bit of fresh air. So, James rises from his seat and leads him back through the kitchen—where Hunter and his mother have now set out a couple cookie sheets on the table, clearly intent on baking something before the night is through—then down the hall and into a second living room, this one much larger than the first, with the added bonus of a new television and stereo system. Along the far wall, Barry spots a set of sliding doors that lead out onto a wide deck.

“There’s a chain-link fence around the yard to keep the coyotes out,” James says as he settles onto one of the couches. “It was more of a concern when Hunter was little, but I wouldn’t advise wandering past it at this hour. We saw something larger out there a few nights ago.”

Barry nods in understanding and slides both the glass door and screen behind it open. Then he steps out into the cool night air and takes a deep breath.

Exhausted, Barry shuffles toward the end of the deck and leans against one of the wood railings, staring out at the small wooded area just beyond the chain-link fence. In one corner of the yard is an old green shed. Next to it is a swing set and a small jungle gym. For a moment, he can almost picture a young Hunter merrily scrambling up and down the plastic slide as his father cuts the lawn.

Taking another deep breath, Barry drops his head forward. He told Hunter about his own Christmas party just the other day. After tonight’s dinner, he’s convinced Cisco won’t vibe anything of interest on him. Then his entire team will finally have that bit of closure they’ve been yearning for since Hunter came into their lives.

Finally, Barry will be able to pursue this relationship like a normal human being.

He laughs a little at the thought of it. Sure, being a metahuman had its ups and downs, but having to tiptoe through every new relationship _really_ sucked. For example, if he and Hunter developed this into something more serious, when should Barry tell him he was the Flash? _Would_ Hunter be okay with him revealing himself as the Flash? Or would he be concerned about losing another loved one well before their time?

Barry sighed. He was overthinking it. Somehow, he would know when to tell Hunter the truth. Until then, he was just going to enjoy his civilian life to its fullest.

Not knowing precisely how long he’d been standing there, Barry finally wanders back toward the house, slipping inside quietly through the sliding door. Said door is situated in such a way that no one on the couch can see him, so Barry is able to observe Hunter sitting next to his father now as they watch the evening news on the widescreen TV unseen.

Ashely is standing behind the couch, kind of in between the two men, reaching up with one hand to scratch the back of Hunter’s head affectionately. Softly, she says, “Your boyfriend’s really sweet.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Hunter chuckles, just as this week’s weather forecast pops up. Then he sighs, “Looks like there’s going to be freezing rains tomorrow. You guys need to be careful. Call me when you make it to the cabin.”

“Always,” James replies.

Clearly only half-listening to their conversation, Ashley absently says, “Barry has the most amazing eyebrows.”

Hunter glances over his shoulder to give his mother a weird look. It’s then that he spots Barry. He smiles. “I was wondering what happened to you.”

“Sorry. I lost track of time.”

“No worries,” Hunter replies, pushing himself up onto his feet. “We should probably hit the road. These two are getting up at the crack of dawn to drive to the cabin.”

“We’ll be back sometime the first week of January,” Ashley adds. “We’d like to have dinner with you again after we return, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Barry replies, following the small family back down the hallway and into the kitchen, the scent of baked goods suddenly hitting him like a brick wall. Sure enough, a perfect four dozen chocolate chip cookies are currently cooling on a wide plater on the kitchen table—until Hunter snatches one up and pops it into his mouth.

His mother gives him a gentle whack on the arm. “I made you five dozen last week. These are for me and your father.”

“Cigarettes or cookies?” Hunter mumbles around the mouthful. “Which addiction would you rather I have?”

His mother titters at him under her breath and then turns to Barry. “He was supposed to give you a few. Did he do that already?”

“Uh…?” Barry says uncertainly. The answer, of course, is no.

Ashley gives her son another whack.

“Hey,” he laughs. “Believe it or not, I didn’t eat them all yet. Barry will get his soon. I promise.”

“He’d better,” she warns.

Shaking his head, Barry wanders past them into the front living room. James is already there, pulling his jacket and gloves out of the closet for him. Once Barry’s suited up, James picks up one of the motorcycle helmets.

The older man stares at it thoughtfully for a second and then hands it to Barry. “I’m glad he’s back on his bike again. Have a wonderful night, Barry.”

Barry smiles, letting Hunter usher him out the door and down the gravel path toward his motorcycle. Once they’re there though, Hunter swivels suddenly to face his house.

Barry stops and glances suspiciously between Hunter and the front bay windows where his parents are standing. He’s about to ask the man what he’s doing when Hunter slowly reaches into the front of his jacket, staring resolutely at his parents—before producing another cookie.

Ashley thumps irritably against the window. Her husband just shakes his head and laughs.

Barry laughs too. “Why do you antagonize her like that?”

“I always steal her cookies. It’s tradition. I’ve been doing it since I was old enough to reach the cookie jar.”

“So you’re a consummate criminal?”

“ _Pft_ ,” Hunter snorts. “I wish. I don’t even have a parking ticket.”

Which is true. Joe had told him as much already.

Barry shakes his head in mock disappointment.

Hunter winks at him and then pops the last half of the cookie into his mouth. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair keeps blowing over to one side in the wind and he just looks so…

So _irresistible_.

“You’ve got that faraway look in your eyes again,” Hunter says after he’s swallowed, “like you want to kiss me really badly. But before we put on a show in front of my parents, I need to know: where am I dropping you off tonight?” Craning his head back, Hunter glances up at the dark sky above. The moon is bright, but as patches of cloud drift past it, the natural light wavers. “It’s way too late to take you back to the park.”

Barry opens his mouth to respond, but then slowly closes it again. There’s suddenly a heaviness in the pit of his stomach that he hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s mostly nerves, but it’s also a little…

Well…

Worried, Hunter glances back down at him. “Barry?”

Steeling himself, Barry quietly says, “I want to go home with you.”

Hunter stares at him momentarily in stunned silence. Then he clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course it is,” he says quickly, clearing his throat again. Smirking, he wraps one hand around the back of Barry’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss, one that’s nice and long, with just a smidgen of tongue.

His parents, after all, are still watching.

“Let’s go,” Hunter says breathlessly, voice suddenly deeper, before he puts on his helmet. Then he mounts his bike.

Barry follows suit, hoping on behind Hunter and wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. His heart is beating frantically inside his chest, but for once it’s solely a symptom of excitement, not fear.

He just hopes his team never finds out about this.

~**❄**~

Hunter lives in a large flat by the river. Fifth floor. It faces the Missouri and the looming Industrial giant of Keystone City on the other side, lit up with a hundred thousand tiny lights, sparkling like a jewel on the horizon.

Barry only catches a glimpse of it from the large balcony windows before he feels the other man tugging him close by his coat. Gently, of course, kissing him briefly before he says, “This is what you want, right?”

Barry fists the front of Hunter’s jacket and pulls him in for a deeper kiss. When they part, he says, “Where’s your bedroom?”

Hunter nods toward the back of the apartment, fumbling against the wall for the light switch. Dark as it is though, the flat is still decently illuminated by the city lights outside, so Barry tugs him forward before he can find it, shrugging off his jacket and then tossing it in the general direction of the kitchen table. Fortunately, it catches on the back of a chair.

Hunter follows his lead, simply ditching his jacket on the floor behind him before herding Barry backwards, toward the short hall to the left. Barry wants to kiss him again, but he soon learns to pay attention to where he’s going when he almost trips over a small footstool beside the couch.

“Careful,” Hunter says softly, grabbing Barry by his arms to steady him. Together then they wander off toward the bedroom, its floor blessedly clear of obstacles.

Once inside, they latch onto each other again, Barry working to pull Hunter’s sweater up and over his head as Hunter attempts to undo the buttons on Barry’s shirt. It’s a disorganized method and Hunter gets momentarily distracted by Barry’s abs, but they’re both shirtless before long, Barry making a grab for the zipper on Hunter’s pants to—

Hunter gently grabs his hand then and draws him forward instead, arms enveloping him, warm hands roaming his back. He’s a muscular man, frame solid and strong. Being held by him is incredibly soothing.

Barry just relaxes in his embrace, reaching up to hold Hunter in return. “Am I pushing this too fast?” he asks, worried that he might be getting ahead of himself here. Maybe he’s being too eager.

Maybe Hunter isn’t ready for this yet.

“Not at all,” Hunter chuckles against his neck. He kisses Barry’s skin, sending delicious little shivers down his spine. “But this is your first time with another man, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Barry breathes.

“Then we’re going to do this your way. Whatever you’re in the mood for.” Hunter kisses his neck again, then the corner of his lips. “Do you want me to get you off with my mouth?”

Hunter is usually so reserved. Hearing that statement startles a laugh out of Barry. Thankfully though, Hunter chuckles with him, pressing a tender kiss against his temple. “I mean it. You get to choose what’s on the agenda tonight.”

Barry’s grip on the other man tightens, somewhat overwhelmed. He never knew how good it would feel to be surrounded like this, to have someone so concerned with his wants and needs that they would be willing to put his first before their own. It’s a foreign sensation, one that has him trembling under Hunter’s touch, pressing back against the kisses Hunter peppers along the side of his face.

It promises to be a surrender unlike anything Barry has ever experienced before.

He kisses Hunter just under the ear and whispers _exactly_ what he’d like the other man to do to him.

Hunter’s wandering hands slow for a moment. Barry can feel him smiling into the crook of his neck “Yeah? You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t hesitate to tell me to stop. I’d be happy enough just to lie in bed and kiss you.”

Barry laughs a little, because he sounds the same as he did when he was warning Barry of the perils of riding a motorcycle, but he guesses that summarizes Hunter perfectly: someone who’s cautious and kind and just yearning for a little love.

“I love it when you laugh,” Hunter says, pulling away. He traces his hands down Barry’s back, and then circles them around his hips to fiddle with the button on his jeans. “Your whole face lights up. It’s beautiful.”

Barry’s never been called beautiful before. It has him laughing again as Hunter makes quick work of Barry’s jeans, letting them drop to the floor before tugging down his boxers. He then nudges Barry gently toward the bed after he’s kicked off his socks and tells him have a seat.

Barry settles down on the edge of the mattress, watching as Hunter rummages through the night stand for a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He drops to his knees and sets the lube down on the floor beside Barry’s foot, struggling momentarily to open the box. It’s a new package.

“It’s been a while and I’m something of an optimist,” Hunter says, almost sheepishly. He eventually pulls out two condoms and hands one to Barry. “I hope you don’t think that’s crass.”

“God, no,” Barry laughs, tearing open the wrapper and pulling out the condom. It’s been a while for him too, but he’s already achingly hard and he rolls the condom on in haste, almost literally vibrating with anticipation. He feels uncharacteristically comfortable sitting stark naked in front of another man for the first time ever. He wonders momentarily if he’s dreaming. That would be just his luck, wouldn’t it?

“Good,” Hunter murmurs, fingers now slick with lube. “This might be easier if you lie back.”

Obediently, Barry does as he’s told, letting Hunter prop his legs up over his shoulders, knees bent. There’s a crack in the curtain of the window behind Barry, so Hunter’s face is partially illuminated as he smiles, eyes shining before he bows his head to take Barry into his mouth.

Barry bites his lower lip. It’s been ages since anyone’s done this for him. In fact, nobody’s done this for him since college—nobody’s done _anything_ with him since college…

God, it’s been too long.

Hunter lavishes the head, bobbing, slowly taking him deeper. Once Barry’s gotten over the initial shock of it, Hunter presses his first finger in. It’s an unusual feeling, to say the least, but by no means a painful one. In fact, the duel sensations make the overall experience all the more intense, especially when Hunter finally reaches the base of him and hums.

Hunter adds a second finger then. Barry curls his toes and sighs.

He’s at a loss for what to do with his hands, so he clutches at the quilt beneath him. He’s amazed with how easily Hunter can relax his throat and take him all in; how good it feels to have those fingers crook inside him, searching out his pleasure, before slipping in a third.

Barry’s breath hitches in his throat and Hunter raises his head. “You okay?”

Barry exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

“Just say the word…” Hunter murmurs before he returns to his ministrations.

Barry laughs. Then tenses again. But he trusts Hunter. Trusts that he’s a man of his word and that he wants Barry to enjoy this as much as he does. So, he bears down and focuses entirely on Hunter’s warmth. And it gets to feel good after a while. _Really_ good, enough so that Barry almost whimpers at the loss when the other man pulls away completely.

Hunter unhooks Barry’s knees from his shoulders and rises to his feet to ditch the rest of his clothes.

Barry props himself up on his elbows so he can watch the other man strip, mesmerized, desire spiking sharply when Hunter is finally nude. He wants to be surrounded by the other man again, to feel his strength and power carefully held at bay, so patient and calm, entirely unlike his doppelganger.

Barry is momentarily surprised that he hadn’t thought of the other Zolomon until now. It feels as though the separation is finally complete for him.

This Hunter is just… _his_ Hunter.

He smiles.

Once Hunter’s rolled on his condom, he reaches over for a pillow and pats Barry’s thigh. “Up, please.”

Barry complies, scooting farther onto the bed and helping the other man wedge the pillow under his hips. He feels terribly exposed with Hunter kneeling there between his bent legs, slicking himself up, but the warm hand Hunter rests against his knee, thumb idly stroking the inside of his thigh, somehow grounds him. He wants to touch him again. And Hunter lets him, leaning forward finally, bracing himself above Barry as he pushes his way in.

There’s a considerable amount of pressure and pain at first, which then ebbs and flows as Hunter rocks his way further in, slowly, stopping whenever Barry inhales sharply between his teeth. He brushes his hand against Barry’s thigh and waist, then traces it up along his ribs as Barry curls his hands around Hunter’s shoulders and pulls him down. They kiss. They breathe. And then together they _move_.

Barry’s always been sensitive to touch, even before he gained his powers. It feels like he’s about to go off at any second, pleasure slowly spiralling higher, hips moving, hands clawing, lips searching for sweat-slicked skin. And Hunter continues to ground him, this all-consuming force of nature, strong and tense but so incredibly tender. He mouths words of encouragement against Barry’s ear, edging him further along, and Barry…Barry submits himself completely. It’s empowering, in a way, to be so vulnerable, to be consumed by someone he trusts. He hasn’t been able to lower his defenses like this since before Eobard intruded into his world, first electrifying him with power and then smothering him with guilt, making no effort to hide the fact that he controlled every aspect of Barry Allen’s life.

“You’re close,” Hunter whispers, and it sounds like more of a fact than a question. But Barry can feel it too, that little thrill in the marrow of his bones, winding slowly around the base of his spine. He wonders if Hunter can tell by the way that Barry kisses him desperately, digging his nails in deep—and then he doesn’t think of much at anything all as the world suddenly flashes white behind his eyelids, climax burning through him slower than he’s ever felt before.

He shudders and tenses, Hunter’s hips stuttering as he continues to thrust. Then there’s a moment when everything is suddenly _too much_ , but by then Hunter has reached the end himself, gasping sharply as the sensation rushes through him too. Barry kisses him, stroking his hands against the angry little crescents in the other man’s back. Ridiculously, the first coherent thought he has is that he should probably clip his nails next time.

Next time.

“What?” Hunter asks, breathing heavily, half collapsed on top of Barry. He’s heavy, but Barry doesn’t care. In fact, he loves it.

“When can we do this again?” Barry replies, carding a hand through Hunter’s hair.

Hunter laughs and kisses him. “Barry…I would very much like to sleep with you for the rest of my life.”

“Perfect,” he sighs, and then they kiss again, achingly slow and patient, until the strength returns to their limbs.

And for a moment in time, Barry’s life feels perfect.

Even if he’s a little uncertain of what tomorrow brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: Barry meets the family, falls in love, and finally gets laid. Best day of his life. 10/10 would do again. No pun intended.
> 
> (Lady, don't you dare delete my Author's Notes. I'm hilarious and you know it.)


	5. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...

_“For nothing is hidden that will not be revealed, and nothing concealed that will not be made known and brought to light.”_ ~Luke 8:17, the New English Testament.

~***~

“I’ve always wanted to see this place in person.”

Empty as the building is, Hunter is utterly in awe of S.T.A.R. Labs when they breeze through the front door. There’s nothing much _to see_ actually—at least, for Barry there isn’t; he’s walked these empty halls a thousand times before—but for Hunter, who idolized the late ‘Harrison Wells’ prior to his posthumous conviction, setting foot in the facility is an experience not too unlike entering a holy place.

And _boy_ is he stoked to finally meet some of the remaining staff.

“You know, I almost applied to work here once,” Hunter says, glancing at the marble stone mural of an exploding star behind the front lobby desk, struggling to keep up with Barry as he makes a beeline for the elevator. Almost unconsciously, his left hand gravitates toward Barry’s lower back once they step inside; instinctively, Barry finds himself leaning into his touch. “My mother talked me out of it. She met Harrison Wells once to discuss building the particle accelerator. Said she didn’t like him.”

“Your mother’s a smart woman,” Barry murmurs as he hits the ‘SUB17’ button, which is the absolute truth considering how disastrous the accelerator’s explosion would’ve been for her company. Quite a few people had been left in a lurch once Eobard hit the kill switch, with only a small fraction being able to restore their reputation following the catastrophe.

“I’m glad you agree,” Hunter chuckles. The numbers on the elevator dial light up slowly, one after the other, as they proceed toward the lower laboratories. Hunter’s hand migrates up toward Barry’s opposite shoulder as they wait, the better to draw Barry in against his side. “I think my parents were very impressed with you last night. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

Hunter is good at trying to hide the uncertainty in his voice, but Barry knows the other man is still yearning for his approval. He can tell by the way Hunter’s been treating him all morning, keeping him in bed well past noon with soft caresses and languid kisses before extracting himself with great personal difficulty from Barry’s arms to make them a very late ‘brunch’. And god bless his soul, he fried up all the bacon in his freezer without question, humming a song similar to his father’s under his breath as Barry frantically searched for his jeans on the bedroom floor. He’d been so sweet, Barry almost didn’t want to go to the party later that afternoon.

Part of him still doesn’t.

But he needs to know the truth and so does everyone on his team, worried as they are about Hunter’s true identity—which is probably why Barry shouldn’t have turned his cellphone to silent the other day, a decision he definitely regretted once he saw the ’ _20 missed calls_ ’ notifications. There would be hell to pay for throwing caution to the wind, but Barry still doesn’t regret staying the night.

For the most part, anyway.

Calling Joe at as he sat naked on the edge of Hunter’s bed to assure the other man that, _yes_ , he was still alive, was not an experience he wanted to repeat any time soon, although he likes to think he was successful in convincing Joe he’d lost his phone last night as opposed to just flat out ignoring it. Joe, of course, muttered a terse _‘sure’_ through the line before informing him that if he was even five minutes late to the party, he’d put an arrest warrant out for his _‘boyfriend’_. Barry had laughed weakly at the joke; Joe had not.

Thinking back on that conversation now makes him cringe a little, which unfortunately doesn’t go unnoticed by Hunter. “Are you nervous?”

Barry knows there’s no way in hell he can lie his way through that question, so he deflects it by flinging it right back at Hunter: “Are _you_ nervous?”

Hunter shakes his head, pauses, seems to reconsider…and then slowly nods. “Your father works for the CCPD, so I’m anticipating either some kind of epic shovel talk or a gun in my face.” He shifts his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. “Joe already knows how old I am, right?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever freaked out about it?”

“No,” Barry says quickly, because, really, Joe didn’t necessarily throw a fit. He just got that dark and stormy look in his eyes, the same he always did whenever Iris brought home a new date. He was just a little overprotective, that’s all.

Hunter gives him a curious look. Barry tries to shrug it off.

He’s saved from having to elaborate on his answer when the elevator doors spring open, although he probably would’ve had an easier time keeping his cool if Joe didn’t suddenly appear before his very eyes. He’s elaborate entrance gives both Hunter and Barry quite the start.

Hunter’s left arm, however, remains firmly wrapped around Barry’s shoulders.

Joe is currently staring at his wristwatch, eyes slowly migrating upward to take in the nervous couple with a too-wide smile on his face. “Right on time.” He says as he takes a step back, gesturing them off the elevator genially before extending his hand to Hunter. “I’m Detective Joe West, Barry’s father.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hunter replies, taking the proffered hand.

As they shake, Barry can hear Caitlin’s heels rapping gently against the linoleum floor from down the hall. She appears shortly around the bend, smiling more authentically than Joe, wearing an emerald green dress with bits of holly tucked into her carefully curled and coiffed hair. Hunter shakes her hand next and compliments her work, having obviously read a few of her papers in anticipation of their meeting. She ducks her head politely, clearly flattered, but Barry still catches the subtle hint of sadness in her eyes. No doubt meeting him reminds her of another Christmas not too long ago when she had fallen in love with the Hunter Zolomon of another world.

For a moment, Barry feels a small sting of pity. He hadn’t given any thought to how difficult this ordeal might be for her, too caught up in the romance of his new relationship to think much past his own feelings on the matter. In fact, he’d felt truly amazing before coming here today, but now his stomach is starting to turn in on itself, hands and feet growing numb as he begins to realize just how close they are to finally learning the truth. He already _knows_ the truth, but doubt is such a miserable beast, ever present at the back of everyone’s mind. Until Cisco vibed on Hunter, there was always the chance that Barry could be wrong, and so long as that chance remained…

Hunter’s hand slowly slips from his shoulder, sliding down toward his lower back to nudge him gently forward. Barry’s feet suddenly feel like two lead weights, each step heavy and slow as they proceed down the hallway, the conversation Hunter’s having with Joe barely penetrating the fog around his head. And as they finally turn the corner into the Cortex, all that Barry is consciously aware of is Cisco Ramon as he rises from his customary seat at the main console, a Big Gulp in one hand, giving Hunter a cursory once over before extending his hand.

Hunter smiles warmly and takes it.

Collectively, everyone holds their breath.

~***~

When Barry was about 8 or 9, his parents took him to the park by the river for the very first time.

It became a biweekly activity that summer because their backyard only afforded Barry so much space when he wanted to run around. Here, at least, his parents could sit down in the shade of a tree, talking quietly amongst themselves as Barry tumbled down the hills and performed floppy cartwheels and explored for bugs. He loved it there because he felt free to roam his tiny little world with the satisfaction of knowing his parents were always just a glance away, happy and peaceful and so very much in love.

Even after his mother died and his father was imprisoned, he still thought about those hazy summer days at the park. He thought about bringing his high school girlfriend there once, to stroll along the path, hand in hand, as they watched the sun set over Keystone City. It would’ve been romantic, he thought, but she was restless in a way that he wasn’t and they broke it off before graduation. And then, with college, there came an unsteady stream of not-so-serious dates that always ended in one disaster or another, never amounting to much past a sad little kiss on the cheek and a bittersweet farewell. Barry had no luck in love, and for the longest time he thought he was destined to always be alone.

And then he met Hunter.

And then…and then he had hope.

~***~

Cisco’s eyes glaze over as Hunter’s hand folds around his own, his entire body suddenly going rigid. This unusual trance only lasts all of five seconds, but for Barry it might as well be a small eternity, anxious to know what it is exactly his friend is seeing. However, Cisco’s face never betrays his thoughts beyond conveying the usual slack-mouthed expression that signifies his consciousness is in another mysterious time or place in the multiverse, so trying to guess the nature of his visions is simply a losing game.

“Are you okay?” Hunter asks eventually, brows furrowed in concern.

Cisco blinks and gives his Big Gulp a small shake, as though trying to stir up the drying bits of ice. “Sorry, man—brain freeze. Before we continue with the formalities though, maybe someone could take your coat and show you where the bathrooms are. It’s literally a maze down here. Trust me.”

As if on cue, Iris and Wally breeze past Cisco, introducing themselves to the baffled man as they usher him back into the hallway. Barry is torn between following after them and staying here to press Cisco for answers, although he assumes Cisco wouldn’t have sent the West siblings to deal with Hunter on their own if he was really…well, _Zoom_.

“What did you see?” Barry asks as soon as they’ve left the room, nervously wringing his hands together. Cisco is frowning, but more so in thought than fear or anger.

“Out with it,” Harry sighs as he materializes suddenly on Barry’s left, pulse rifle pointed toward the roof. Barry jumps, completely taken surprise, especially when both Linda Park and Hartley Rathaway then creep out from the side office to the right, the latter wearing his trademark gloves, the former holding what appears to be a gun.

Barry blinks in surprise at Linda. “Since when did you start carrying one of those?”

Grinning, she gives the weapon a small wave. “It’s not a real one. I showed up too early, so your friends supplied me with a dart gun.”

Stepping around the main console, Joe gently takes said dart gun from her hands. “Bullets or no bullets, you don’t go waving this sort of thing around.”

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly.

 Impatient now, Harry drops his hand heavily on Cisco’s shoulder and gives him a small shake. “What did you see?”

Cisco blinks, staring out at the middle distance, still seemingly mystified as he tries to ground himself in the Here and Now. “It was just flashes of his past. He…he isn’t Zoom.”

All at once, everyone seems to sigh in relief.

“He’s a completely normal human being.” Cisco elaborates, scrunching his face up in surprise. “Lost his fiancé maybe three or so years ago and had a hideous wipeout on his motorcycle, but he’s lived a pretty mundane life otherwise.” His eyes, however, dart nervously to Barry before he drops his gaze to the ground.

His furtive glance does not go unnoticed by Harry. “What?”

“It’s nothing…”

Joe takes a small step closer. “Spill it.”

“Guys, _seriously_.” Cisco’s hands shoot up in defence, clearly agitated by the invasion of his space. “It’s not important.”

Barry isn’t sure why he’s being so evasive—which he obviously _is_ —and that scares him. “It’s okay, Cisco. Just say it.”

Cisco shakes his head, face going red. “Man, I really _can’t_.”

Baffled, Barry says, “Why?”

“It’s…” Cisco swallows. “It’s kind of R-rated.”

Oh.

… _Oh_.

A dead silence descends upon the room as realization slowly sinks in.

Harry is the first one to react, his face doing this funny little squinty thing, like he’s finally encountered a problem he can’t quite wrap his massive brain around. Both Linda and Hartley, on the other hand, just smirk knowingly at Barry as Joe…well, Joe lays a heavy hand on Barry’s shoulder and gives him _the look_. “Lost your phone, huh?”

Barry tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it’s lodged there good and tight. Probably isn’t going anywhere until the new year. Or maybe never. Then he won’t have to speak to anyone until his dying day. Hallelujah…

“We’re going to have a talk about this tomorrow,” Joe mutters, thumping his shoulder again for good measure. Then he reaches over to give Cisco a small pat on the back, probably in the hopes of rousing him from his stupor. “You did good.”

“I am _so_ sorry,” Cisco chokes out, looking all the world as though he would very much like to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

Barry can sympathize with him.

Eventually getting over his own surprise, Harry braces his rifle against his shoulder and clears his throat. “I’m glad we had this little chat, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home to my daughter now...”

“Uh, yeah.” Depositing his slushy behind him on the main console, Cisco quickly brushes past Barry out into the hall. “Just give me five minutes to recuperate and then I’ll send you on your way.”

Harry moves to take off after him but stops short suddenly. Barry’s expecting a word of caution, but the other man just tilts his head sympathetically to one side and grins. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“…So do you.”

“This news of Hunter’s possible return had me worried for a while there, but now that we know your guy isn’t Zoom…” Harry glances at the ground for a moment, searching for the right words to say. “Just…allow yourself to be happy, Barry. So what if he looks like that asshole? He’s clearly not the same man.”

The lump in his throat returns, but this time it isn’t a product of embarrassment or fear. “Thank you.”

Harry’s smile brightens. He reaches up to squeeze Barry’s shoulder gently. “No problem. You know where to find me if you ever need me again.”

“Likewise.”

“Merry Christmas, Barry.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Barry watches as the other man continues out into the hallway, glancing around the corner briefly to make sure the coast is clear before vanishing altogether.

Barry sighs and pivots back around.

Both Linda and Hartley are suddenly standing right there in his face.

“Your boyfriend is a hunk,” Linda muses aloud, eyes alight, the corners of her lips curled mischievously.

Hartley nods eagerly. “He’s a solid 10/10.”

Humiliated as he is about being exposed, Barry can’t help but crack a smile, grateful that they whole-heartedly agree with him.

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

~***~

Given Cisco’s unorthodox discovery, the team is careful not to let their surprise show when Hunter and the West siblings return. And really, Barry’s just glad nobody thought to invite Team Arrow, because he knows for a fact that that little revelation could’ve ended a lot worse. Oliver would’ve shot someone, and that someone might not have necessarily been Barry.

Once everyone is accounted for, the festivities commence. Cisco had earlier collected couches throughout the building and shoved them into the Cortex, forming a large semi-circle around the small Christmas tree Caitlin resurrected that morning in the little alcove that normally houses Barry’s suit. In the side office to the right, they also set up a series of small tables which now hosted a smorgasbord of random homemade dishes. Joe, of course, provided the turkey and Grandma Ester’s famous eggnog; Cisco, on the other hand, loaded the far end of the table up with an odd assortment of candies and wine. _A lot_ of wine actually…

When Barry pulls him aside to ask him about it, Cisco just winks and says, “I jacked it from Eobard’s old collection. I figured that however today ended, we’d all need a little something to take the edge off.”

Barry can concede to that, so even though he can’t get drunk, he still pours himself a healthy helping of a nice cabernet sauvignon to toast with his companions. It’s tannic and potent and gives him the most wonderful buzz once it settles in his stomach, which he enjoys immensely despite the fact that the sensation is horribly short-lived.

All in all, it turns out to be a remarkably normal party. They stuff themselves with good food and then settle on the couches for a little light conversation and a few games, Barry tucking himself into one corner with Hunter pressed up close beside him. Their guest of honour causally throws an arm around Barry’s shoulders as Hartley plops down on Hunter’s other side so they can chat about life in general. Hartley’s apparently met Ashley Zolomon once before, having contracted her briefly to do some work for his family’s company, and so they spend the next hour and a half talking about the trials and tribulations of mixing science with business.

There’s an easy fondness between the two of them that brings a small smile to Barry’s face as he half-heartedly eavesdrops on them. It gives him hope that Hunter will become fast friends with everyone else on his team.

Eventually, either from emotional exhaustion or eating too much turkey, Barry starts to nod off. He tilts his head back against Hunter’s arm at one point in the evening, convinced that he just needs thirty seconds of shut eye, and then jerks awake when he begins tilting too much to one side. In fact, he almost topples over onto Hartley’s lap, who politely braces one hand against his shoulder to guide him back into an upright position.

From his seat on the floor, crouched over some bizarre game with Iris and Wally, Cisco glances over his shoulder at Barry and snickers, “You have no idea how loud you snore, man.”

Barry rubs his eyes blearily and glances at his watch. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know. Two hours maybe? You were sleeping pretty hard.”

Stretching his arms above his head, Barry finally becomes consciously aware of the empty spot beside him. “Where did Hunter go?”

“He had to take a call,” Hartley replies, now fiddling with his own phone. Then he frowns and turns his head to Barry. “I’m not sure when that was.”

Barry glances around the room, straightening in his seat. He still feels a little groggy and loose-limbed, and he could easily fall asleep again, but his boyfriend is nowhere in sight and he doesn’t want him to unwittingly stumble across something unusual or dangerous. So he whips his cell phone out of his back pocket and thumbs over his contact info. “I’ll text him.”

And so he does: **Where did you go?**

He waits a minute. Then another. Curious, he struggles to his feet and wanders out into the hallway, glancing left, then right, wondering how far Hunter could’ve wandered since he passed out.

Just he decides to check Cisco’s workshop first, his phone buzzes. Hunter’s short response is: **1817 Bedford Ave.**

Barry frowns, not only because the address is miles away from S.T.A.R. Labs, but because it also sounds oddly familiar. It’s the industrial side of town, that much he knows for sure…

Utterly baffled, Barry texts: **What are you doing there?**

Hunter doesn’t write a response. Instead, he sends a picture.

At first, Barry isn’t sure what exactly it is he’s looking at. The image is dark and the few lights that are in the background are bright enough that they blot out much of the picture. After a moment though, he’s able to discern a large grey warehouse, a tall cement storage hopper, and a conveyor belt—which, altogether, makes for a very familiar scene, one he visited less than a year ago…

Realization pierces through the fog of his lethargy like a blade to the heart as finally understands Hunter’s puzzling message—the implications of which are only further hammered home by Hunter’s next message: **Come alone.**

Barry doesn’t know what to say to that.

Suddenly, he feels numb all over. His hands begin trembling so hard, he almost drops his phone.

Unbelievably, he thinks he’s honestly going into shock.

And that’s how Joe finds him, strolling down the hallway with his own phone in hand. “You’re not going to believe this, but earlier today there was a—”

“Where’s my suit?”

Joe slows to a halt. “Say that again? You sound a little faint, Barr.”

Barry doesn’t know if he’s capable of raising his voice above a whisper right now. He tries again anyway: “Where’s my suit?”

“I think Cisco stuffed it in the Time Vault before you arrived,” Joe replies, eyeing the way Barry is clutching his cell phone like a lifeline curiously. As expected, his tone of voice immediately hardens, brain flipping from Dad Mode to Cop in a heart beat as he asks, “Where are you going?”

For a second, Barry contemplates lying to him. After all, Hunter told him to come alone.

Then again, Barry doesn’t think he’s _capable_ of doing this alone…

“The cement plant,” he finally chokes out. “You know the one.”

Pity instantly softens Joe’s feature. “Barry…”

Barry shakes his head. He doesn’t want pity right. It won’t do anything to change the fact that the Speed Force is dragging him over the coals yet again, forcing him through another cycle of turmoil. He truly is playing a losing game against the multiverse, he realizes, one he’s never going to win.

 _Ever_.

Joe reaches out to touch him, obviously intending to tell him something else, but Barry doesn’t want to hear it. He disappears down the hall into the Time Vault and pulls on his suit before vanishing, lightning licking at the air in his wake.

There will be plenty of time to talk about his epic failure later.

If he survives.

~***~

The building in Hunter’s picture is located on the far edge of the industrial sector of Keystone City. In fact, it sits alone in a wide, open field surrounded by weeds and a maze of dirt roads, where once someone had planned to erect a new housing development. But that was before the recession and now the only remnant of that long forgotten dream is a rusted sign, paint peeling from years spent baking in the sun. Someone else bought the land shortly afterwards at a fraction of the price and built the plant in its stead, it’s many interconnecting buildings sitting there silently, squat and grey, the perfect metaphor of disappointment and despair.

Barry’s feet almost falter when the cement plant comes into view, but he somehow manages to press onward until he reaches the front yard. It’s brightly illuminated by the facility’s many spot lights, all of which seemed to be focused on the lone figure standing in the small parking lot, facing away from him, staring up at one of the large concrete silos.

Barry slows to a halt maybe twenty feet away, heart hammering in his chest as he takes in Hunter’s still form decked out in his trademark leather suit. Barry wants to move closer to him, to make sure this isn’t some figment of his imagination, but he’s too scared. And honestly, how awful is that? He gave himself entirely to this man less than 24 hours ago and now he can’t even muster the courage to approach him…

Barry sobs into his upraised hand, stomach clenching as the severity of this situation finally sinks in.

Hunter hears him of course, bowing his head to pull off his mask. He doesn’t face Barry immediately though, but turns his head far enough to one side so Barry is able to tell that this is, in fact, Hunter.

Barry doesn’t know why, but he pulls his own hood back too. He supposes it’s a sign that this game has finally reached its conclusion. There’s no more need for secrecy.

Hunter doesn’t move for a very long time. Exhausted as he is, Barry waits for him to make the first move.

Quietly Hunter says, “Do you love me?”

Barry blinks. His eyes are burning with unshed tears. He can barely see straight at the moment.

It takes him a considerable amount of effort, but eventually he’s able to choke out his response: “ _Yes_.”

Hunter finally faces him then. His own voice sounds tight with emotion when he asks, “All the time that you and your friends were spying on me…how long have you loved me, Barry?”

Barry blinks again and this time his tears spring free, streaming down his face. He has to wipe the moisture from the corner of his mouth before he can sputter out the truth: “A-always.”

“Always,” Hunter echoes softly. It doesn’t sound like a question, so Barry doesn’t say anything more. As expected though, Hunter presses onward, taking a small step closer. “Did you ever truly believe I was Zoom?”

Barry doesn’t see a reason to lie to him. Faintly, he replies. “The day we first met.”

“You ran away,” Hunter recalls, continuing slowly forward. “But you came back…”

Barry has neither the energy nor the motivation to retreat, so he simply nods.

“And what do you think of me now?” Hunter asks, stopping just a few paces away. He’s close enough that Barry can see the red, glossy sheen of his own eyes, as though he’d been crying a little himself before Barry’s arrival.

For some reason, that pushes Barry over the edge. He collapses to one knee on the ground, head swimming.

This _can’t_ be real…

“You can’t be him,” Barry sobs. “I know you. I _love_ you…You c-can’t be him… _please_ …”

“Barry,” Hunter says softly. He paces forward again and crouches down in front of him. After a heartbeat, he touches Barry’s shoulder.

Barry doesn’t flinch away. He merely drops his head and says. “You win…I can’t fight you anymore.”

“Barry,” Hunter says again, whispering this time. For some reason, this prompts Barry to raise his head. The man looks distraught, eyes darting across the darkened landscape around them before focusing on him again. “Barry, _please_ …she has my mother.”

Barry wipes his tears away with back of his hand, confusion muddling up his thoughts.

Then it hits him.

Actually, it hits both of them, a blinding ray of light that throws Barry viciously to one side. He rolls several times before he comes to a stop, head spinning as he tries to push himself up onto his knees.

He’s able to lift his head long enough to spot Hunter lying comatose on the ground ten feet away before there’s suddenly piercing pain in his side, radiating rapidly outward. He tilts his head and reaches down toward his hip, but then every muscle in his body spasms all at once, tensing until he collapses to the ground, gasping for air. Every breath is challenge, chest seizing if he inhales too deeply; any motion, no matter how small, is met with the same arresting fate.

Still gasping, he wonders briefly if it’s possible to poison a speedster.

He isn’t able to give that question much thought before a shadow passes over him—followed immediately by a swift kick to his side, one that sends him rolling farther across the dirt parking lot. He lands on his back this time, still struggling for breath, black dots dancing across his vision as he slips in and out of consciousness.

Faintly, through the radio in his hood, he can hear Cisco screaming, “ _—now_! _He’s dying_!”

Terrified, Barry realizes that’s probably true.

But then a soft, honeyed voice pulls him back from the verge of oblivion, air slowly filling his lungs as his diaphragm recuperates from the hit, though still clearly laboring against whatever it is he’s been poisoned with. “Did you miss me?” The shadowy figure coos as it draws nearer, blocking out the spotlight. “Because I certainly missed you.”

Slowly, his eyes adjust on his assailant.

He draws in another rattling breath.

“How’d you like the show?” Linda whispers, reaching down to stroke an errant bang away from his face. “I was hoping your lover would drag it out a little longer, but he’s hasn’t been the most cooperative hostage tonight. He threw _quite_ the fit when I told him to put on the suit.”

 _‘Why?’_ Barry wonders as his body seizes again, so violently that he almost blacks out from the pain.

When he returns to his senses, the first thing he’s consciously aware of is Linda’s laughter, soft and mellifluous, flitting softly into the wide, empty space around them. “I’ve been living in a nightmare, Barry Allen. The moment you apprehended me, you signed my death warrant…Zoom never did forgive me for failing him.” She sighs wearily, looking up and away for a moment, eyes scanning the landscape again. “It only got worse after you gave him your speed. He told his army to skin me alive if they ever caught me—and you have _no_ idea how many times they came close to doing just that.’”

‘ _I’m sorry_ ,’ Barry wants to say, because he is. He remembers the day she fled from S.T.A.R. Labs, naked and invisible, forced to ditch her suit in order to convince Cisco that her cell was empty. He can’t imagine what she’s been through since then.

“For a while, I almost contemplated leaving you alone, but then even after defeating that bastard, you got so caught up in the lure of Hunter Zolomon that you actually went and _fucked_ his doppelganger.” Suddenly, her hand closes around his throat, squeezing. “Knowing what he’s capable of, I’m surprised you could even stomach the thought of sleeping with the likes of him. He’s _evil_ , Barry Allen. What is it going to take to convince you of that?”

Barry tries to raise his arms to fight. Predictably, they merely spasm at his sides.

He can hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Gradually, Linda relinquishes her hold just as her silhouette begins to grow a little blurry around the edges. “What does that say about you, I wonder?” Raising her other hand now, she reveals a large dart. At one end is a long, glass bulb filled with some blue, translucent fluid; at the other, a two and a half inch long steel needle. “I don’t know about you, but I think the world’s had its fill of evil speedsters. One more dose of this and I’ll be doing your Earth a favor, really. No more _Flash_. No more speed dem—”

 _Thwack_!

Linda topples over to one side, hitting the ground with a solid _thump_. And once she’s down, she seems to stays down—although as another shadow passes over Barry, he mentally braces himself for something much worse.

He’s so starved for oxygen though that he doesn’t immediately recognize Hunter until the other man drops the lead pipe in his hands and collapses to the ground beside Barry, tearing off his gloves before cupping Barry’s cold face.

“—no, no, _no_ ,” Hunter murmurs anxiously, hands trembling something fierce. He must be in shock. But somehow he still has the presence of mind to glance at Barry’s wounded side, reaching down to extract the dart Linda shot him with earlier. It hurts like all unholy hell coming out, but Barry can barely breathe, let alone flinch in pain, so he simply lies there limply, waiting for the poison to either kill him or dwindle in its potency. When Hunter holds the dart up briefly to the light, Barry can see that the bulb is still only half full, undoubtedly designed for a slow release to incapacitate him longer. Perhaps, then, this doesn’t necessarily mean the end…

He takes a small, shuddering breath.

Maybe he’s being hopeful here, but that solitary breath feels somewhat deeper.

Hunter drops the dart and reaches for Barry’s head again—this time to tear one of the small radios out of Barry’s hood, through which Caitlin is currently shouting his name. “Please, help!” Hunter yells in return. “I don’t know first aid! He’s suffocating!”

Barry doesn’t hear what happens next. His entire world goes black momentarily.

He’s snapped back to reality almost immediately when his left foot twitches.

“He can move a little,” Hunter says, clutching the mic desperately. “But he’s gasping for air. If he stops breathing, can I resuscitate him?”

Barry takes a deeper breath. Then he reaches up to grab Hunter’s arm.

The other man is so startled by his touch, he drops the mic. “ _Holy sh_ —Barry! Barry, don’t move. Your friends are—”

Using Hunter’s arm for leverage, Barry slowly sits up, coughing so hard he feels as though he’s about to hack up a lung.

“Barry?” Hunter says again, voice trembling. “Are you okay?”

Barry nods.

“But you just—”

He shakes his head and continues struggling to his feet.

Hunter scampers up first, holding onto Barry’s arms to steady him. “You shouldn’t be moving. You almost _died_.”

Again, Barry shakes his head.

On the ground, Linda moans. Both Barry and Hunter freeze for a moment, watching dumbly as she pushes herself up onto her knees, cursing under her breath. Then she lifts her head and raises her right arm, extending it toward them.

Startled, Barry dips into the heady stream of the Speed Force and thrusts them bodily out of the way of her blast. He stumbles, of course, arms and legs still protesting any and all movement, but that deep-sedated ache that once immobilized him is gradually replaced by the all-encompassing warmth of his powers. It feels like liquid lightning in his veins, propelling him forward seemingly of its own accord.

Although once he hits the ground again and returns to a normal speed, the spasms return in full force. In fact, the muscles in his legs contract so violently, he’s genuinely terrified he’s about to break something.

Powerless to do anything else, he throws his head back and screams.

Hunter’s hands are suddenly on him though, rolling him over onto his back before hooking under his arms so that he can drag Barry, kicking and screaming, across the parking lot and onto one of the dirt roads. They’re too far from the city streets to wave someone down for help, but Barry knows Joe will be on his way soon and he’s oddly touched by Hunter’s effort, despite what little good it’ll do them.

In the distance, Linda finally staggers to her feet, almost topples over again, and then corrects her stance.

“Run,” Barry gasps, reaching up to grab Hunter’s arm, hoping he can hear him. “Please, _run_.”

“Like hell,” Hunter huffs, obviously still hurt from before but dead-set on giving this his all. “If you stop squirming, I could probably carry you.”

“ _Hunter_ ,” Barry snaps, watching as Light starts jogging after them. She’ll reach them in a matter of seconds, already raising her arm to attack again. “Close your eyes!”

He can’t tell whether or not Hunter was able to follow his instructions, but as Barry squeezes his own eyes shut he hopes for the best. Light’s next blast throws them both off balance yet again, flinging them further down the dirt road. Barry hears Hunter grunt in pain somewhere off to his left.

Cautiously, Barry opens his eyes again. He’s not blind, thank god, but Linda is standing _right there_ beside him and she—

—walks briskly past him without so much as a second glance, making a beeline for his unfortunate companion.

“I’ve always wanted to kill Zolomon,” she mutters as she delivers a swift kick to Hunter’s stomach.

Hunter sucks in a painful breath and glances up at her, having obviously closed his eyes when Barry warned him to. It’s the only reason he’s able to successfully roll out of the way of her next kick and scramble to his feet, one hand covering his winded side.

“Of course, you’re not the real deal,” Light continues, “but I think putting you out of your misery will be a cathartic experience all the same.”

She swings her fist at Hunter then and he ducks—although he’s not fast enough to dodge her next uppercut. She hits him square in the jaw and almost knocks him clear off his feet, but he somehow manages to stay upright, stumbling back from her as she continues to advance.

“If you’re not going to fight back, I’m just going to end this now,” she growls. “Come on, big guy—hit me!”

Still backing away slowly, Hunter shakes his head.

For some reason, this causes her to stop.

Barry uses this opportunity to bowl her over before she can recuperate from her surprise, hitting her so hard that her visor flies off somewhere into the darkness as she face-dives into the gravel road.

That solitary burst of speed felt good again, but as soon as Barry hits the ground himself, the spasms return. Oddly enough though, they don’t hurt as much this time around.

Crying out in pain, Light rises up again to reveal a nasty gash above her right eye and a bloody nose, which she prods gingerly with her fingers. “You son of a _bi_ —”

As Barry dips back into the Speed Force, that last word fades away into a gentle buzz, the whole world softly humming in his ears as he starts running around her at an angle. And with every step, the pain recedes; the warmth increases, even in his wounded side, where Light nailed him with her dart. It’s the truest euphoria, a sense of power and serenity unlike anything else he’s experienced in all his life.

Now that he’s able to act without interruption, Barry turns around to close the loop around Light and Hunter. Then again, and yet again—over and over until he can feel the energy mounting, just the way the other Hunter Zolomon taught him so very long ago…

Darting past his own Hunter one last time, Barry pivots sharply on the spot and let’s his proverbial dagger fly.

Releasing all the pent-up energy forces him to a stand-still again, accompanied, as usual, by the muscle spasms, although these are considerably weaker than before. Enough so that he is able to keep himself upright as he watches his bolt of lightning encompass Light, blinding in its own brilliance as it knocks her off her feet. She arches beautiful through the air and then lands flat on her back, out cold for good.

Legs wobbly, Barry sways to one side precariously. Hunter’s hand on his shoulder steadies him.

“Okay,” Hunter gasps, clearly stunned. “That was…amazing.”

Barry coughs and leans back slightly, stretching out his aching muscles. There’s still a dull throb in his side from the dart, but he knows even that will fade in due time. “Where’s your mother?”

Hunter blinks, momentarily thrown by the question. “Um—inside the plant. One of the upper offices.”

Barry nods, pulls his hood back on, and then vanishes just as the tell-tale whine of a police convoy rises in the distance, red and blue lights flickering in the darkness.

It takes him only a couple of seconds to find Ashely Zolomon. She looks a little disheveled, to say the least, shoved into the corner of one of the offices at the far back of the building. Her ankles are bound together with rope and her arms are cuffed to an old radiator, a white cloth stuffed into her mouth under a thick piece of duct tape to muffle her cries for help. Barry removes the gag first, as gently as he can manage, then takes the chain linking the cuffs in his right hand and vibrates it to ruin.

“Oh my god,” Ashley gasps, watching in awe as he immediately dispenses with the ropes around her ankles. “Thank you, but my boy—some woman took my son. She—”

“ _He’s safe_ ,” Barry replies, voice distorted by the gentle vibration of his throat. “ _Is she holding anyone else here?_ ”

“Not that I know of.”

“ _Good_ ,” he sighs, relieved. Then he scoops her up into his arms and whisks her away, skidding to a halt outside just as the police cruisers fly out onto the dirt, forming something of a semi-circle around Hunter.

The first few cops that emerge from their vehicles train their guns on the poor man immediately. Joe whips his gun out too once he emerges from his car, commanding him down on his knees. Hunter, of course, follows his instructions without question, wincing in pain as he raises his hands above his head.

Barry is quick to deposit Ashley Zolomon gently on the ground before he darts between Hunter and the men surrounding him, raising his own hands in supplication. “ _Stop_!” he cries out. “ _He’s just a hostage_! _Don’t shoot_!”

Joe squints at him. His men side-eye each other indecisively, trying not-so-inconspicuously to watch Detective West for his cue.

Joe takes a deep breath through his nose, staring first at Barry and then Hunter. For a second, he looks as though he’s about to squeeze the trigger…but then he sighs and lowers his gun.

Immediately, his men lower their weapons too.

Barry drops his arms in relief, turning to face Hunter and his mother. Once it’s clear to Ashley Zolomon that no one is about to get shot, she springs to her feet and throws her arms around her son.

Hunter crushes her against him in return and kisses the side of her head. Then he lifts his gaze to Barry.

Barry tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “ _You’re…you’re safe now_.”

Still holding his mother, Hunter opens his mouth to speak.

But Barry vanishes in a burst of light before Hunter can get a word out, flying through the city streets with practiced ease, his physical pains nothing more than a faint memory. But the ache inside his chest remains, so he retreats to the riverside park and collapses beneath one of the large oak trees. He shudders in the cold and draws his knees up to his chest, hugging them against him as tries to figure out what will happen next.

But he can’t, so he cries.

He just sits there for a long time and cries…

~***~

Barry has suffered countless misfortunes in his many lifetimes and he knows he's doomed to suffer countless more, so he doesn’t allow himself to wallow in self-pity for too long. As soon as Caitlin reaches out to him through the remaining speaker in his masks, he wipes the tears from his frozen face and returns to the Cortex. She and Cisco are the only people remaining there this late at night, sitting together on one of the misplaced couches, Barry’s neatly folded clothes stacked between them.

Once Cisco catches sight of him, he raises his cellphone and gives it a small shake. “Joe called earlier. The police found the real Linda Park tied up in her apartment, shaken but unharmed.”

Barry pulls back his hood. “Thank god…”

“And the Zolomons were dropped off at the CC General Hospital,” Caitlin adds softly. “Joe says Hunter didn’t mention you by your real name to the police, but you might want to see him, even if it’s just to do a little damage control.”

Barry’s stomach lurches at the thought. “I…I can’t.”

He has no idea what to say to Hunter. All he _does_ know is that he doesn’t want to say goodbye.

Not…not just yet, anyway.

Caitlin and Cisco glance indecisively between each other. It’s obvious that they don’t want to push him, but they have a point. Once the shock of tonight wears off and the CCPD calls Hunter down to the precinct for an official statement, he might feel compelled to tell them everything he really knows, such as the identity of the Flash…

“Never mind,” Barry mumbles as he snatches up his clothes. “I’ll go.”

“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Caitlin offers, rising to her feet.

He wants to say yes, but he shakes his head. Her company won’t do much of anything to change whatever is about to happen between him and Hunter.

Sadly, she nods. Behind her, Cisco bows his head.

Barry quickly swaps his suit out for his regular clothes and then disappears once more into the night.

~***~

The CC General is busy tonight.

It’s flu season, so the emergency waiting room is crammed full of people coughing and groaning and sneezing. None of them are the Zolomons though, so Barry swings by the front desk and asks the nurse in charge if anyone was recently brought in by ambulance. She consults her computer for a moment and then nods, gesturing to a set of wide, automatic doors that lead to the ambulance docking station and a few of the examination rooms beyond.

Barry ducks through the doors slowly, nervously clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. To his right is a door that leads to the ambulances; to his left, a long hallway that ends in yet another waiting room, this one a little less crowded than the last.

Huddled together in one corner of the room are Hunter and Ashley Zolomon.

Hunter spots Barry first, staring across the room with an uncharacteristic air of impassivity. Then he narrows his eyes.

Barry clenches his fists again, fresh tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. He should’ve known Hunter wasn’t ready to see him yet. Hell, he probably never wants to see Barry again.

That destructive little line of thought is brought to an abrupt halt though when Ashley slowly lifts her head. She taps Hunter on the arm and whispers something into his ear, which shocks her son so much that he literally jumps out of his seat.

Frightened, Barry crosses his arms protectively across his chest and waits at the far end of the hall for Hunter to approach. Momentarily, he debates high-tailing it out of there, but his indecisiveness ironically keeps him grounded until Hunter finally reaches him and says, “I’m sorry, but that woman busted my glasses earlier. I didn’t recognize you from afar.”

Barry opens his mouth to tell him that’s alright.

What comes out instead is a pitiful little whine that sounds an awful lot like: “ _Please don’t leave me_.”

He’s exhausted from all the crying he’s already done tonight, but he somehow has the energy to cry a little more now, catching a glimpse of the Hunter's expression of surprise before he buries his face in his hands and lets it all come out. Because he’s lost. He’s lost the one good thing that’s happened to him in _ages_ and there’s no hope of repairing what’s been—

Hunter laughs.

It’s more of a deep rumble that sounds one part dog-tired and one part utterly amused, and it shocks Barry just a little less than the two strong arms that slowly wrap around his trembling frame. And it’s all polished off with a gentle kiss against the side of the head, one that stops Barry’s tears dead in their tracks as he finally opens his eyes.

“Why on earth would I leave you?” Hunter asks.

“You and your mother could’ve died tonight,” Barry offers weakly.

Hunter shrugs against him, still holding him tight. “That’s just one of the many perils of living in the Twin Cities nowadays.”

“But…” Barry licks his lips, completely blindsided by the other man’s response. He supposes he shouldn’t be all that surprised that Hunter would get a little thrill out battling a metahuman head on. “But you know now that I was spying on you.”

“ _Ah_ …” Hunter cringes a little. “Yes, well, you still have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, but I think that can wait until tomorrow. Besides, something tells me you weren’t lying when you told me you loved me. You looked…you looked as though you were willing to lay down your life in order to be with me—the _real_ me, not my…my doppelganger? Is that _really_ what Zoom was?”

Barry nods.

“Well, that’s a terrifying thought.” Hunter shudders, tightening his embrace. “I’m not him. I _promise_ you. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.”

Barry shakes his head. “You don’t have to. We kind of already know that you’re not him.”

Hunter gives him a curious look. “That’s something else you’re going to have to explain to me, but…right now I’m still a little shaken from watching you almost die tonight and I just _really_ want to kiss you. Is that okay? Can I kiss you, Barry Allen?”

Barry doesn’t understand why anyone would want to kiss his red-eyed, tear-streaked, ugly mug of a face, but Hunter doesn’t hesitate to do just that as soon as he nods his assent. And Barry would be happy just to stand there and kiss the other man all night, but it isn’t long before someone taps him anxiously on his arm.

The pull apart slowly to discover Ashley Zolomon standing beside them.

“I knew you would show up,” she says, smiling brightly before she leans in to kiss Barry on the cheek. “You are _such_ a sweetheart! Hunter and I are fine. Your father took good care of us after the police showed up.”

Trying to wipe away some of his tears, Barry sniffles and says, “I’m glad, but this isn’t exactly how I was hoping to introduce you.” Suddenly, he notices the way she’s cradling her right hand against her chest, the middle finger a little red and swollen. He’s not sure how he missed that earlier. “You’re hurt?”

“Oh, it’s my fault really.” She glances down at her hand and sighs. “I punched this strange woman back at the cabin. I’m sure Hunter will fill you in on the details later, but this metahuman crawled into the back seat of our car and sat there quietly for two whole hours _completely_ naked on the drive up there!”

Truly astounded, Barry shakes his head.

“I have to give her credit for her tenacity though,” Ashley mutters. “She knocked James out, stole our cell phones, and then stuffed me in the trunk of the car before heading back to Central City. She’s a strong woman for her size.”

“Do you know if James is alright?”

“Oh yes,” She chirps. “The police drove out to check up on him about an hour ago. He doesn’t remember what happened. He woke up on the front porch and thought maybe he slipped on a patch of ice and concussed himself. They’re driving him back to the city now.”

Barry shakes his head again. He feels absolutely horrible. The whole Zolomon family suffered needlessly today because of him. “I can’t imagine how terrifying this experience has been for you…”

He’s a little surprised when she slaps him playfully on the arm. “Are you _kidding_ me?!” She says excitedly, eyes shining. “I _punched_ a metahuman and lived to tell the tale— _and_ I got to meet the Flash!” She grabs his arm again and gives it an giddy little shake, as though Christmas had somehow come early for her. “I’ve always wanted to see him in action. He’s just as nice as everyone says he is. And the police really respect him. He stopped the cops from shooting my poor boy.”

She reaches over then to squeeze Hunter’s arm, brows furrowed in concern. “How are you doing, by the way? I think you’ve been through considerably worse tonight. I don’t even know where that woman got that weird leather suit or why she wanted you to wear it.”

“Detective West told me it was stolen from _The Rogues Gallery_ earlier today,” Hunter supplies.

Ashley scowls in distaste. “That’s a little creepy.”

Hunter shrugs. “Not that I would want to experience anything like what happened tonight ever again, but you know how I am. I love a little adventure.”

Ashley smiles softly, shaking her head fondly. “You stupid boy.”

Her comment startles a small laugh out of Barry.

“He needs a lot of supervision, this one,” Ashley informs him. “Make sure he doesn’t buy any cigarettes on his way home. He occasionally falls back into the habit whenever something disastrous happens.”

Barry frowns in confusion. “But he hasn't smoked since high school, right?”

Hunter clears his throat awkwardly. Ashley gives a sharp, dry laugh.

Barry’s eyes widen marginally in surprise.

Hunter is spared from further embarrassment though when a nurse pops his head into the waiting room, clipboard in hand, eyeing the crowd before announcing: “Ashley Zolomon?”

Ashley turns at the sound of her name and gives the man a small wave “I’m coming,” she replies. Before she goes though, she glances back at Barry and says, “Thank you for checking up on us tonight, honey. Hopefully, this doesn’t take too long.”

“I’m not in any rush.”

She smiles at him and gives Hunter one last affectionate pat on the arm before turning away, running off to follow the impatient nurse to the X-ray room.

Barry and Hunter stand together in silence for a moment, watching Ashley as she disappears through the double doors beside the nursing station. Then Hunter slips his hand into Barry’s, interlacing their fingers before giving it a gentle squeeze.

Barry takes a deep, shuddering breath and then exhales slowly, feeling uncharacteristically drained after today’s emotional rollercoaster. He could really go for a nap right about now. In fact, he just might pass out the second he takes a seat…

Giving his hand another squeeze, Hunter quietly says, “I love you too, Barry Allen.”

Bowing his head, Barry smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ladyofpride: With each read-through I discover new grammar and spelling mistakes, so if you notice anything unusual, please don't feel bad about letting us know. I'll probably read this chapter again tomorrow morning to make more minor corrections, so I'm aware that they're still out there, lurking for us in the darkness....
> 
> therealhunterzolomon: " _...nothing concealed that will not be made known and brought to **light**_ " -- lol! Get it?... _Light_? Oh man, I'm so clever. 
> 
> Anyway -- hope you enjoyed the chapter, guys! Up next, the epilogue...
> 
> [PS: While I'm the only one that replies to comments, ladyofpride still reads them all and discusses them with me before I write my response. We just do it this way so that we don't end up over-inflating the comment count, seeing as some people use that to gauge whether or not they want to read a story.]


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theoneandonlyzoom: YOU GUYS, WE MADE IT! I'm so stupidly proud of myself. This is the longest story I've ever written.
> 
> Thank you, again, for being such a wonderful audience.

All things considered, Hunter takes the news of his doppelganger’s crimes against humanity relatively well.

It probably helps that Cisco narrates most of the story, having invited the man back to S.T.A.R. Labs the day after Christmas for a proper briefing, although Hunter still looks vaguely sick when he learns that his doppelganger very nearly destroyed the multiverse on nothing more than a whim. He loses a little more colour when he’s informed of the devastating event that precipitated said doppelganger’s abrupt descent into madness, but he never once questions the truth of this extraordinary tale. Having been beaten by one metahuman and waking up the past few days next to another has evidently softened him to the idea that such a dark entity could exist, if only in another time and place far removed from his own reality.

“The woman who attacked us is from the same world as Zoom?” Hunter asks after everything is said and done. “Are you the only people who know about the ‘multiverse’?”

“There are others,” Barry clarifies, vague as he knows his answer is. “The authorities are also aware, to a degree. Near the end of his stay here, Zoom wasn’t always careful to hide the fact that he could open portals to another dimension. He pulled a small army through at one point, which had to be shuttled back to Earth 2 once the dust settled.”

Hunter sinks further into his seat, settled in close beside Barry on one of the still-misplaced couches in the Cortex; Cisco is leaning casually against the arm rest on his other side. “Is that what you plan on doing with this ‘Doctor Light’?” he inquires. “You’re sending her back to her world?”

“It’s safer that way,” Cisco replies, although he doesn’t elaborate why. The CCPD already knew that Doctor Light was a foreigner to Earth-1, and so the authorities were only marginally reluctant to hand her over to the Flash before they could properly question her. As amiable as their relationship with the Flash is, Barry knows they wouldn’t have allowed that to happen had they know that Light knew his civilian identity.

Barry didn’t like to trust much of anyone with that kind of information nowadays…

 “Is that why they’re here?” Hunter continues, eyeing the two gentlemen chatting quietly with Caitlin and Joe behind the main console. Said gentlemen are none other than Jay Garrick, who had volunteered his services to escort Light back to Earth-2, and Harry, who tagged along to examine the dart and to answer any personal questions Hunter might’ve had about his doppelganger, seeing as he had known the other man the longest.

Barry pats Hunter gently on the thigh. “They’re going to take Light to her world in about an hour. She’s in the pipeline right now if there’s anything you’d like say to her.”

Hunter shakes his head. “The only Linda Park I’m interested in talking to is the one from our world. Besides, I don’t imagine Light wants to see someone with my face ever again.”

“Fair enough.” Barry slowly rises from his seat, because he himself still has much to discuss with her. “I won’t be long.”

Hunter smiles up at him and sinks ever further into the couch, either in relaxation or exhaustion. Or perhaps both. He looks content just to sit there and wait, so Barry takes that as his cue to leave.

As soon as he passes the small group huddled by the door, both Jay and Harry take up after him, flanking him on either side as they make their way together toward the pipeline. Harry is the first to speak, but not before he hands one of Linda’s empty darts over to Barry. “You were felled by a derivative of curare. Dr. Snow and I aren’t sure why it caused muscle spasms in lieu of paralysis, but whoever engineered it obviously designed it that way so you wouldn’t completely asphyxiate. That’s also the reason why the dart has a slow-release mechanism: this nasty piece of work was devised to subdue you, not kill you.”

Barry laughs, but there’s nothing merry bout it. “This certainly would’ve killed a normal human being.”

“Like I said,” Harry murmurs. “This poison was designed for _you_.”

Barry’s gait slows down a mite, puzzled by the implication of that statement. “I find it hard to believe Light would’ve gone through the trouble of stealing a poison like this when she clearly wanted to kill me. She came very close to giving me double the recommended dose.”

“Maybe she wasn’t confident she could slow you down quickly enough to kill you without the use of the sedative,” Jay Garrick offers, “or maybe she was sent to subdue you and got a little carried away with her own want for revenge.”

Completely floored by Jay’s theory, Barry slows to a halt. The crazy thing is, his theory _isn’t_ all that bizarre, considering Light’s been used as a puppet once before. “That’s…that’s a bit of a stretch, wouldn’t you say?”

“Is it?” Harry’s response is soft, but the man has little patience for nonsense. If he believes in what Jay’s saying, there’s a good chance it’s the truth. “Light’s a smart woman, but she’s no scientist. That dart was given to her by someone else, and I’m tempted to say that she was only given it recently considering how long she’s been stalking you. She might’ve started off months ago fantasizing about how she was going to get even with you, but it wasn’t until someone provided her with the means to do it that she finally acted on those whims.”

“But who would want to capture me?”

“Pick a name. Your enemies are numberless, Barry. You encounter a new one almost every other day.”

Numbly, Barry turns the dart over in his hands, careful not to nick himself on the needle. It’s then that he notices there’s something etched into the glass: T&E. “What’s this?”

“We don’t know yet.” Gently, Harry takes the dart back from him. “Doesn’t match the logo of any legal manufacturer on either of our two worlds, although I’m willing to bet Light got it from here. She has no way of traveling home on her own.”

“Has anyone questioned her about this?”

“Detective West and I have already tried,” Jay admits, giving a small, disappointed shake of his head. “She’s not interested in talking. She might say something to you, although I think that’s a long shot. She has nothing to lose by keeping her mouth shut.”

Barry gives another small laugh, slowly picking up the pace again as he makes his way down to the pipeline. “I beg to differ…”

Sure enough, though, Light barely acknowledges Barry’s presence once they’ve reached her cell. Sitting on the floor, one leg casually crossed over the other, she looks as though her mind is already another world away—although the tear streaks on her face betray the fact that she’s not so far withdrawn as she would like them to think.

Still standing between the other two men, Barry takes the dart back from Harry and holds it out before him. “Who gave this to you?”

Staring resolutely at the toe of her boots, Light blinks.

“We already know you didn’t make this yourself,” Barry continues, undeterred. “We also know you didn’t bring it with you from Earth-2, otherwise you would’ve used it on me before…Linda, who gave this to you?”

Another slow, defiant blink.

Jay huffs in annoyance beside him, but Barry doesn’t share the older man’s sentiment. He tilts his head to one side in sympathy, knowing that Light is watching him in the periphery of her vision. “If you answer our questions, we won’t report the murder of Evan Larkin or the attempted murder of anyone else on this Earth to the authorities on yours.”

Barry can feel Jay suddenly burning a hole into the side of his head with his scowl but Barry’s too focused on the way Light’s own head snaps up at his offer to care. Unsteadily, she rises to her feet, eyes still glossy with tears, glancing frantically between Harry and Barry as though searching for some kind of sign that this is just a joke. Finally, she says, “You didn’t report the first murder yet?”

Harry, still shocked as he is by Barry’s unexpected bargaining technique, shakes his head. “Well, no, actually…”

Jay takes a half step forward, allowing him to glare past Barry at the other man. “For someone who claims he wants to clean up the metahuman catastrophe on his Earth, you _sure_ haven’t been acting like it.”

Friendship aside, Barry realizes this has obviously been a long-standing point of contention between his two companions. He makes a mental note to ask Jesse about it someday.

“First of all,” Harry begins darkly, openly glowering at Jay in return, “Light was one of the most elusive criminals on my Earth, even before she became a metahuman. I had no reason to believe we would ever apprehend her here. _Secondly_ , unless a person is declared legally insane, murder carries the death penalty in my country.”

That last point shuts Jay right up.

Impassioned now, Light walks right up to the glass of her cell door. “I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I don’t care if they lock me up for theft— _don’t_ tell them about the murder.”

Jay shifts uneasily from one foot to the other, but eventually nods as Harry says, “You have our word.”

Nervous, Light takes a deep, shaky breath. Then she licks her lips and launches into her answer: “I don’t know who made the darts or who delivered them to me. I came back to my bolthole one day and found a couple of them in a manila envelop on my mattress.”

“Someone just barged into your hideout and left a weapon on your bed?” Jay asks incredulously.

Sensing no sympathy from his corner, she gives the older speedster a dirty look. “Ever since Zoom put a hit out on me, I’ve had a number of people try to smoke me out in new and unusual ways. But I still took a chance. I opened the envelop and read the letter that came with the darts.” Slowly, she turns her gaze on Barry. “It was short and to the point. Whoever wrote it instructed me to lead you alone to the cement plant and distract you until they arrived. In exchange, they would send me home. It was signed ‘ _T &E_’.”

“And you believed them?” Harry asks softly.

“There were pictures in the envelop,” she explains. “Some were of the cement plant, probably so I would know where to trap the Flash. The others were of our world—namely my apartment back home. I know it was a gamble, but I just had a feeling they were telling the truth.”

“But ‘they’ didn’t show?”

“I don’t know why. They probably found out someone called the police. It’s not hard to eavesdrop over the radio.”

Barry ran a hand irritably through his hair, because that was certainly true. But at least now he knew this mysterious person (or ‘persons’) was likely from Earth-2. How else then would they know so much about Light and where she lived in her own world?

“Anything else you’d like to add?” Jay asks, sounding a little less irritable now.

Light glances briefly at Barry again before averting her gaze. “I… _apologize_ for what happened earlier. I’ve been running for my life for over a year now and all that frustration finally came to a boil that night.”

“Desperate people do desperate things.” He can understand, to a degree, her motivation for acting the way she did. It’s a crime he’s often guilty of too. “I forgive you.”

Nodding, Light turns away from the glass and returns to one corner of her cell. Exhausted, she crouches down, leans her head back against the wall, and closes her eyes.

Offering the dart back to Harry, Barry leans over toward the side console and closes the pipeline door. Jay will escort Light to her world once Harry and the others are finished comparing notes. But for now, she can have her peace.

Head crooked to one side, Harry stares at the dart in his hand, lightly tracing the etched letters on the glass bulb with his thumb. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Of course,” Barry replies, although he doesn’t know that for sure. As quickly as the situation with Doctor Light has been resolved, he knows they’ve only chipped the tip of the iceberg here. Without a face or name, it’s likely they’ll have to wait for this ‘T&E’ to make their next move, and who knows when that will be?

Silently, the three of them make their way back up to the Cortex. Restless, Jay goes for a ‘run’ while Harry wanders off into one of the side offices to chat with Caitlin and Cisco. Satisfied with his talk with the other Linda Park, Barry pulls up behind Hunter where the other man is still seated on the couch and starts messaging his shoulders.

Humming in delight, Hunter raises his right hand and rests it over Barry’s. Quietly, he asks, “How’d it go?”

“Better than I expected.”

Craning his head back, Hunter smiles. “Well, that’s because you’re so charming.”

Barry chuckles. Then he sighs. “How about you? Do you have any other questions?”

“Plenty, but I think I need time to digest what I’ve learned already. I might discover the answers for myself.”

“You can ask me anything,” Barry says as the other man rises from the couch. “Whenever you want. I…really don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

Maneuvering around the couch to join him, Hunter gives him a quick peck on the lips. “I know. And likewise, Barry, although I doubt my slightly checkered past is half as exciting as yours.”

“ _Hey_ , I think you’re a pretty exciting guy too.” Taking the hand offered to him, Barry slowly strolls with Hunter out into the hall, making their way together toward the elevator. 

“I must be if I somehow managed to snag the fastest man alive,” Hunter concedes.

Barry squeezes Hunter’s hand affectionately. Mysterious as the future is, he’s not afraid of what’s to come.

Not so long as the multiverse allows him to have this.

 { _à suivre_ }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ladyofpride: " _à suivre_ ", I believe, is French for "to be continued", although I'm not sure why my companion wrote that. Neither one of us speaks French.
> 
> theoneandonlyzoom: It's because it sounds sexier in French.
> 
> ladyofpride: ...I'll concede to that.
> 
> Anyway---thank you again for sticking with us for so long, everyone! We hope you enjoyed the story (and that you enjoy the sequels if you'd like to tackle those as well).


End file.
